Alaska
is big. Alaska is unique. Alaska is a far away place, especially from the
mainstream political scene of Pennsylvania Avenue, some 4000 air miles away. Alaska’s
own capital is closer to Seattle then it is to most of the 572 thousand square
miles of wilderness that is home to bears, moose, enormous caribou herds,
horrendous flocks of mosquitoes and about a half-million residents scattered
here and there and everywhere. But Alaska is the richest of states under the
red, white and blue. We have oil. And Alaska gets the biggest bang from the
buck, through yours and mine income taxation appropriations. So basically,
Alaska is the oil welfare state! Such a sweet and sour quagmire was made
possible through the generosity of three ultimate power U.S. representatives.
This state really receives only a pittance from the oil giants who explore to
exploit. I think that word pittance in reality means “pity”, and probably of
British origin. Our law shaking lawmakers respectfully earned a name, the
“Three Stooges”. But one opted to retire and gave the cushion senate seat to
his daughter. He then became the governor! Not only does this state win the
coveted “Pork King” award time after time, we usually win the “Hog” trophy. We
have bridges to nowhere, thanks to Uncle Sam. We have hi-tech rocket launch
facilities, with no rockets to launch, thanks to Uncle Sam. We have Cray
super-computers, whose main use seems to be that of maintaining brewing
recipes, for the local brew-masters club, once again courtesy of Uncle Sam.
Boston has the “Big Dig”, we have the “Big TED”. Such attributes indeed makes
for lively discussion about the 49th state. And with the long
Alaskan winters, lasting at least into the middle of May at the mildest of
climates, the coffee shops get their fair share of gossipers. The SHORT STACK
III, a follow-up collection of yet another 49 short stories from the Chinook
Journal of S. Pam MaGee, brings to light the uniqueness’ of Alaska, the “Last
Frontier” state! Oh, one more thing. This writing would not be possible without
the express primitive action made possible by our dueling banjo elected
representatives. Or something like that!
2)
Flip
Flop
3)
Garage
Sale
5)
Idiot
Wind
7)
GWB,
Environmental Terrorist Weapon Plans
8)
Dick
Cheney, Now President!
10) Theory
of Relativity Revisited
11) Ticket To Ride!
12) TSA on the Slide
13) Man of This Day
15) Last Train to Cuckoo-Ville
16) Precedent Snot
17) Jell-O Mold
18) Bah Humbug
20) Bank Robbers
21) Project ED
22) Lite This!
24) Feed Control
26) Can’t
Judge a Book by its Cover
27) Pocket Pool
28) Alienation
29) Who’ll Be the Next In Line?
30) Women
31) L.A. Freeway
32) Vytorin, A little Dab Will Do Ya
33) Encounter Time
34) Senator Commode
35) Eminent “The Clown” Domain
36) He’s Got A Ticket To Guide!
37) Kid In Me
41) Anchorage’s Summertime Blues
42) Vanity Affair
44) Schools
Out for the Summer
45) Weed Whacking, Alaskan Style
47) Brother
Can You Spare a …?
48) Homeward Bound
49) Petition
Bill “Willie” Clinton just can’t
stay out of the limelight. Many pundits say that he is grabbing the podium in
efforts to erase the “bad” blurbs and blogs during his terms of endangerment.
Historical moments made famous through his relationship with the “devil with
the blue dress”. I mean historical “movements”! And because the existing
administration seems to be in hiding, they can’t launch a counter-attack. They
have very little artillery left, except the “red” button. The “Easy” button I
am talking about. But some think that Dick disconnected the battery, for use
with his own peace-maker! He is only allowed so much energizer rabbit pellets
per State of the Union address. See, the existing 3-person inside out “Oreo”
administration would like to attack Bill, as presidential pardoner #42 is
attacking the guy whose foot-steps he chose not to follow in – old man Bush,
presidential pardoner #41. It is called the trickle down theory. Who could have
imagined that the Bush War House would achieve low enough ratings such that
Bill could make a come back? With that, I am sure that in the end, the “blue
dress” will be the reason that the U.S. was tricked into going to war with
Babylon. Not Monica’s dress, but Barb’s! The one she was wearing when the
gargantuan TV screen caught old man Bush and the not so finest first lady
making out at the World Series. Gag me with a spoon! What does that really
mean, Monica? But this is what happens when the existing president gets into a
predicament and trims down government to a minority quorum. Hey, give this guy
credit. Trimming down government was on his agenda since the mission was
accomplished. The only problem here? It is not by attrition but by addition to
the incarcerated ranks. Maybe we should call it the Felony House! Hey, and it
is time to stop pestering George on this WMD invitation to war with Chalabi.
This guy, who was the head of the Iraqi National Congress, is touring America.
But he wasn’t invited by the Felony House! See, Hussein was not the imperial
leader. He had too many look alike impersonators. Now, George said that
attacking Hussein was in retaliation because of the insane leader’s
assassination attempt on his dad. George felt that with so many “Hussein”
imposters running around, anyone would do. Sure we have some guy in captivity
that thinks he is Hussein, but the DNA sample is still being tested, for almost
two years by now. That’s the government for you! Remember, there existed
two-reasons to go to war. George gets one and Dick gets one. Condy remains
neutered. That is what is meant by “capital”! One reason was that of
retaliation, and number two was just that. We were shat upon! See Dick belongs
to some club that plays PNACkle, so they gambled that the U.S. could cause
distemper in another country. It means civil turmoil. With that, the muslin
country would be torn apart and in the end it would be divided up territory.
The exit strategy relies on Tom Delay’s recipe for redistricting. But Tom is
hiding, so the plan is on hold. The bottom line? The war is going as planned.
It was just a card game guys! In the end, one section of that country will fly
the Hail-Burton flag! “Oil that is, Black Gold. Well the next thing you know
old Chalabi’s a billionaire, the kin folk said Armed, move away from there,
they said America is the place you ought’a be”! Sorry, off on a historical
thread tangent. Lets go back in time to see how Willie “wonked” US! I have a
very common name. So I am automatically on the debt collectors’ harassment
list. See, debt collectors are terrorist in training. Anyway, I received a call
from this guy who claimed he was an idiot. It was on a Sunday. Usually I just
let the answering machine talk back to the idiots, or atheist. Hey anybody who
engages in this type of behavior on a Sunday cannot believe in God. Anyway,
today was a good day to play games with some guy from an outfit called NCO. Hey
if Dick can play games, so can I! Doesn’t NCO mean “Non-Commissioned Officer”?
These idiots use this as an intimidation technique. Anyway, after about fifteen
seconds of intimidating this guy’s Texas IQ based on “no cowboys left behind”,
well he started getting lawyer like. Do you realize how easy it is to get a
lawyer pissed off? Really, they try to use the intimidation thing right off the
bat, in efforts to corral one’s behavior. Sometimes an entire jury gets
intimidated. But lawyers are all idiots in disguise. Try it next time, just
remember you are protected by the real Constitution that seems to be hidden
away for safe-keeping. Believe me, never let yourself get intimidated by the
legal system, as it has become an elitist club and it is not what Lincoln would
have allowed. Abe was the greatest lawyer of all times. He is right up there
with Einstein, Beethoven, and Newton. Those few “Great Men”. Sorry Bill.
Anyway, after this debt-collecting idiot tried to tell me I would have to sell
my dog in efforts to not bring legal action against me for not paying another
persons debt who had my same name, well I decided to investigate this debt
collecting bull-crap. Here is how it goes. Bottom line, a debt-collecting
outfit doesn’t give a rat’s ass if it ever collects a penny. It is called the
alphabet soup scam. You thought Ponzi had a scam, guess again! We learned it
all in kindergarten. About the only money these sleazebag outfits collect is
from little old ladies who get scared and screwed over through the use of
intimidating techniques. That is the cream of the business, a legitimate
business thanks to Bill. It all started during his watch and gained popularity
such that no citizen is aware of how it affects the bottom line. Bill was good
at the secrecy thing. All presidents seem to work the secret channels, but this
newest guy seems not afraid to take matters head on out front. As if he
believes most people are more concerned about what the tabloids are saying
about aliens then what is really happening to the country. Maybe Carl is really
a democrat in disguise! So say Master Card ends up with a person who cannot pay
his credit card debts. Say due to loss of a job as head of FEMA. So with a
grace period that lasts about the same time it takes for George to get upset
when Laura wears a “blue dress”, well these guys write off the bad debt. George
doesn’t like Laura wearing anything blue. He has this paranoia thing about
blue. Now Master Card does this for a reason. Bad debt is sold cheap. It is the
face value that is important. So they basically give away the debt, using the
loss as a write off against profits. Done correctly, these big credit card
industries end up paying zero Federal taxes. That is the reason it is easy for
a child in the womb to receive offers for pre-qualified credit that could pay
for the delivery! Now for awhile, bad debt was big business up here in Alaska.
Yes indeed, Native corporations who were making millions of dollars in profits
purchased the bad debt to offset windfall profits from oil, gas and gambling.
Now gambling is an interesting thing. I believe it is the ultimate treaty in
efforts to get enough money to buy back the land that Wild Bill stole away. Can
you imagine if the buffalo were still roaming the prairies? We could be eating
steak everyday! Anyway, the debt is sold for a write-off. Now along comes
company “A”. This outfit is basically an undercover scam for some investment
firm that needs a write-off to make shareholders happy. So company “A” hires
some intimidators to make an attempt to collect the debt they purchased for
2-cents but has a face value of 2-million dollars. Same thing happens, they
in-turn sell the uncollected debt to company “B”, which is the same company as
company “A” but has to change names because the IRS is slowly catching up to
them. But they most likely have senators as collectors, it’s that idiot
qualification thing and senators don’t know what to do with free time Sundays.
Now this goes on and on and on. So no corporations, that have an investment
firm attached to the purse strings, have to ever again pay any Federal taxes.
In fact, some will probably get rebates in the end. Now using the alphabet
algorithm, the company that started off as company “A” and is now at company
“NCO”, well they still have many years left to shelter the shareholders loot.
And you thought Ponzi was good! The bad thing about this, many investment firms
are foreign owned by now. So that is why they keep coming over here, no
taxation. And someday, when the NCO Company becomes the XXX Company with
headquarters out of southern Californicate, it will be successful in buying the
Federal deficit, and we will all be on that Sunday list to intimidate, from
bimbos gone throat-less! So how did Willie “Wonk” US? Well this entire fiasco
of debt write-offs is the only thing that kept the economy buoyant when he was
in office. Let’s face it! Old man George found retirement due to a rotten
economy. Now we all know that Bill didn’t have a magic wand. And the IT
investments had added to it the “SH” factor. So corporations were given the
green light to speed past the Treasury Department. Not only that, they found
that investing in “blue dress” stocks meant it was special interest payback time!
It allowed the passing out of credit cards like passing out communion on
Sundays. Bad debt is good tidings to these guys. Any other way, it would have
meant drastic recovery techniques and very difficult times for cardholders. And
new card applications would have meant putting up one’s “crown jewels” for
collateral. See in the past, the companies would have had all the other
cardholders pay for the delinquencies. Sears got caught! So that is why we are
a society that has no idea what the real value of money is all about. We don’t
know the green, but we sure understand the “blue”, from the dress and sorry for
the flag!
When I was a kid growing up
with Ike and John, dishwashing detail meant one thing - do it or go hungry. Yes
indeed, my mom didn’t need a maid. So for an entire week every third week, it
meant clean hands! I despised it. My older and younger brothers held the same
sentiment. And when it wasn’t the dirty dish duty, it was another chore. Like
table cleaning details, or garbage take-out. Dishwashing was actually a pretty
clean job. I didn’t like the SOS stuff, that steel wool with some kind of soap
that acted like snot. The “S-pad” was required, as this was the dark “pan” age.
None of that space age slide a burnt egg on surface crap. It meant elbow
grease! Trash take-out was the dirty smelly job, especially if one waited a
little too long. That was all before curbside pick-up. The burnable stuff would
be separated from the other junk. The junk - like egg shells and coffee grinds
- ended up in a pit, where maggots did their thing. For the remainder, it meant
a barrel fire out back. I lived in a typical middle-class neighborhood - in New
England. There was no such thing as a landfill. Yards were small, but
sufficient. And trash burning took place in the evening, so it was also a time
to talk with the neighbors, sort of like a social gathering. Maybe shoot a few
hoops. Then again, it may have looked like a bunch of street people, trying to
keep warm during a Nor-Easter! We torched everything the maggots couldn’t
handle, even the glass. Back then, glass was reserved for milk bottles, ketchup
& mustard & relish bottles, and Narragansett beer bottles. The milk
bottles were refilled. The others melted. Again, this was all before the
plastic revolution, when everything was burnable. Mostly cardboard and paper.
When one went to the corner bakery for bread and pastries, it was packed in
paper and cardboard. For the meats from the local meat market, same thing, that
butcher paper. That stuff had grease and wax on it, so it helped stoke the
fire. Vegetables, same thing, paper sacks. And TV diners? All cardboard. The
stuff even tasted like soggy paper. Nowadays, everything comes with some
plastic attached to it. Now when plastics came around, the EPA was born. It
meant an end to open burning, it meant an end to maggot pits. It meant the
dishwasher revolution was upon us. And everyone did chores before the
revolution, it was mandatory upon the younger generation. There came the main
chores, required if one wanted to eat, and the extra assignments, for a weekly
allowance. Maybe enough pocket change to buy a pack of Lucky’s. And there
existed times when the entire neighborhood was involved in helping out one
another, like with snow shovels in hand to clear the side roads to the main
road, during a good winter pounding. Really, from husbands, to wives, to the
kids. And we were taught to laugh at the Communist ladies sweeping and
shoveling snow, in that “bad” country. Getting back to washing dishes by hand.
Research has proven that washing dishes is the best way to keep the flu-bug
away. Yes indeed, the dish detail allows the stubborn foreign matter that has
accumulated under the nails to take a hike down the drain. So back then, kids
didn’t get sick all that much. It was because of “dish” detail! Now that wasn’t
the reason for the chores. It was more like a boot camp mentality. It worked.
For the most part, Dad hung around the TV, armed with extra shoes incase the
black & white turned to snow. Yes indeed, a strategically placed sneaker
meant “action”. Either with Lawrence Welk or Jackie Gleason. Now this was all
before automatic dishwashers - and remotes - had been designed and built so
every middle class working hero could afford such a luxury. So with this new
research that has looked back on the past, I thought maybe it was time to go
back to the old ways! And not just for medical reasons. Why not? First, it may
save energy and if the old ways can take us back to the healthy ways, it would
cut down on sick bills. It is a proven remedy. Hey, more and more doctors are
tooting the horn that clean hands is by far the number one preventative
medicine for colds and flu termination. Well, I guess I was wrong. About going
back! The other night I was entertained by a commercial. It started off showing
two kids enjoying themselves, doing dishes! They were smiling. They had fluffy soap
bubbles up to their elbows. Like taking a bubble bath. It looked like an SOS
pad was also part of the entertainment! Wow, I thought, maybe somebody else was
already on to this idea, especially now that we are scared to fear once again
by big bother. Not a typo. Yes indeed, the bird flu is heading our way. I hope
the scare hits the “hill” first, to see who gets immunized first. Remember the
anthrax scare? There wasn’t enough stuff shelved to protect even our troops as
they were sent off to defend the mission accomplished. We work backwards
sometimes. But our representatives and their families, extended families at
that - illegal immigrant maids, nannies and pets included - were secretly lined
up and shot! But I am a middle class working American, so I guess I will have
to rely on the SOS. My automatic dishwasher broke a long time ago. I was going
to get a replacement, until I ran across this lady that was suffering from
breast cancer. She held all these theories about how the industrial strength
dishwashing detergent that is required to get dishes clean behind closed doors
and without elbow grease requires the addition of heavy metals, like aluminum.
Now if the stuff ended up going down the drain, hey it is one thing to pollute
the oceans, but this stuff remains as a residual on the dishes, so it is
eventually consumed. It is proven that it causes breast cancer. So the problem
with so many young American moms ending up in the grave each year is because
our researches are baffled and can’t find a cure to this devastating creature,
but it is a problem that insists upon preventative medicine. My wife still
doesn’t understand, as it is hard to have friends over for dinner and try to
explain the fact that we don’t have an electro-mechanical slave, like we are still
living in the Stone Age. So I removed the old beater and replaced it with a
wine rack. Especially when one friend told us that the avocado green was coming
back into style! As a penance to my stubbornness to not give in, I get to do
the dishes. I like it. I can look out the window and watch the birds feed. I
can watch the squirrels quarrel and at the same time outwit my dog. It is a
peaceful task. And you know what? I haven’t had a cold or flue for 10-years
now. I haven’t taken one iota of an over-counter or under-counter or
counter-terrorist drug for the same amount of time, except Dramamine when I go
out halibut fishing. So I am a genuine guinea pig to the research. We were all
guinea pigs when we were kids. Hey, we were never that sick. Anyway, these commercial
kids who were having fun, well they were scolded by the parents. Now it was
like a preachers scolding. With smiles and all that touchy feely stuff. But the
kids were in trouble because they were not in their room playing video games!
Really, so the parents directed the two children away from the sink and herded
them into their bedroom, right smack down in front of the tube. This same thing
happened when the kids were reading in their rooms, right before bed. They were
scolded, because they were supposed to be playing computer games instead of
reading! It had to do with some kind of new educational game. BULLSHIT. This
was brainwashing 101. The parents, the advertising company, the religious
fanatic, the “hill”, they all need to be spanked. In fact, forget the plastic
ruler, find one of those wooden ones that the nuns used to cherish. But it
seems that with micro-computer circuits capable of zillions upon zillions of
flip-flops per second, so has society. We have flipped away from reality, and
flopped upon indecency. Hey brother, it is time to wash your hands! But maybe
the filth is embedded forever, until death due us part! History used to repeat
itself. That is no longer profitable, as history likes revolutionary
visionaries, that is also not profitable when is comes to equity or ethics. So,
get rid of your dishwasher, and get your hands clean. Who knows, maybe you will
be immunized against the bird flu even before Spot and Barney - that’s George
and Laura’s pooches. And remember what Bob sang out, “His clothes are dirty but
his hands are clean”. And yes indeed, the avocado green is coming back! Maybe
there is hope that history still conquers and can repeat itself, hopefully
towards a simpler lifestyle where “dirty hands” are a thing of the past.
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Finally had the guts to have
that good old American garage sale. It follows that saying that a sober man’s
junk is a wasted man’s treasure. Bah humbug! Whatever. It has to be the
ultimate case of giving up one’s right to privacy in his or her own home.
Anyway, the results are in. Two days to assemble, or at least 12-hours of my
valuable time. Along with an $18 dollar ad in the local Daily Stool. Then
4-hours of airtime. So it ironed out to approximately $5 per hour plus change –
total profits. Now that number rings a bell? Hey, that is about minimum wage!
The other day I saw some senators involved in taking a poll on minimum wage. In
reality, it was just an attempted cover-up. The coveted wage hasn’t seen an
increase in over ten years, but nobody admitted to being responsible for how or
why the hourly take-home is where it is at today. Supposedly any increase is usually
attached to a senate bill as a “rider” and then that “rider” is superceded by
another “rider” and in time all the “riders” join to form a posse and the
original “rider” that would have made for a better wage is chased away and the
approved increase is re-directed to be used as a COLA increase for the
senators. The only problem, it has grown from a 2% increase, or 10-cents,
towards a wage increase at well over $4000.00. For them and not for us! See,
the scoundrels know how to steer the committee’s agenda. Now my calculations
prove that amounts to about a half years pay for someone on the minimum wage
thing. A wage is by far the most fundamental of all assets to the facets
embodied in true Americanism. We could all be working at this poverty wage!
There is nothing that says an employer cannot dictate such a wage, accept for
the threat of a productivity slow-down. An the way unions are loosing ground,
beware, as minimum wage is gaining acceptance more and more with each and every
passing day. For the most part, it is shareholder driven. Sidebar on unions: I
am a strong union supporter. But union membership seems to be loosing ground.
And the union memberships’ own greed seems to be the culprit. Yes indeed, union
wages are good. So if a business, with workers under a union agreement, decides
to expand and takes over another business, also with workers under a union -
the same union - and the workers under the expanding business don’t speak up
that their jobs were enhanced at the expense of other union workers, then
unions are doomed. This happened right here in Alaska. I worked for a company
that operated the power plant at an Air Force base. My job was to keep the
runway lights on and generate electrical power for the Vet’s hospital. My job
was covered by a collective bargaining agreement with the electricians union.
The government decided to start buying electricity from the local power
company. The power company employees were under the same union. We all did the
same job. Soon, the government decided to buy all the electricity demands from
the local power company. We lost our jobs. At the same time, the local power
company installed new generators and gave the workers big raises, as the
company was making big bucks ripping off Uncle Sam, and my job. Not one union
member, out of 150 workers, not one spoke up about this. Why? They made out!
Some union members lost out. It gave me a rotten taste. Not about unions, about
the members greed! They didn’t give a rat’s ass about their fellow brothers and
sisters. That is bad business for unions! Yes indeed, shareholders want more
and more, so they bother the board of directors to cut something. And the
easiest thing to cut is jobs. But a business can only cut so much of the
manpower. After that, it means cutting salaries. And shareholder greed will
take us down that road wherein everybody will be making minimum wage, except
senators. And due to the trickle down theory, all government workers will
continue to get inflated wages. U.S. is indeed a welfare nation on the verge of
a farewell to the “good old times”. We have been screwed with this minimum wage
thing. It will in time affect many. Why do we vote these idiots in time after
time after time? Isn’t enough even well past enough is enough? Here lies the
problem to such flagrant disregard to the voters and citizens alike. Not all
citizens are voters according to the Supreme beings. Hey, a representative’s
main job as an elected official is the pursuit of life, liberty and happiness –
not just for themselves, but for US! So what does it take to get there?
Remember, they are our guides. Well if the congress feels they need a wage
increase, then Americans should also get one – it shall be mandatory! The fact
that they can eat steak and others less fortunate have to eat spam, it is
barbaric. The senators’ wage should be America’s wage. The bottom line, if you
don’t make that wage, then you shouldn’t be penalized with taxation. We are not
talking equity here that sounds in socialism. The bottom line again, the
senators’ job is to make the people happy. Their pursuit is no different then a
priest practicing celibacy. The same goes for retirement. They work no harder
then any other true grit American. Whether or not one is employed as a Wal-Mart
greeter or a legitimate prostitute. But the “millionaires” club has failed
miserably. They make the corporations smile at the Americans’ expense. Really,
no one individual should be required to pay one iota of a tax until that L.L.H.
is achieved. That means the Life, Liberty and pursuit of Happiness gauge. Just
think how happy the people would be. Hey, if you don’t move up to make enough
money, at least there is a goal set. And if corporations made it, they would
pay for it, that is the milestone. That is basically the wage required. If I were
elected something, that would be my agenda. We need to establish the L.L.H. Now
people would say, you can’t do that. Well why not. It would mean a drastic
decrease in government overpaid under-worked g-men. But the country wouldn’t
crumble, as now businesses would be paying their fair share. Stockholders suck.
We are all stockholders, it will ruin America, as greed will crumble another
persons future wealth, We are all at war with each-other. The other interesting
thing about garage sales? It is testament that a class system exists within
this country to the point that it is an atrocity. I had people who were
stretching bubble-gum to find an extra dollar, maybe for something that was
required in efforts for them to achieve the L.L.H., just for a day. Living one
day at a time I would guess. I had one oriental looking guy ask me if the can
goods in my garage pantry were for sale. Then there arrived the desperate
housewife clientele, people with play money and some no money to play with.
Really. There was one mom who showed up with her little daughter. The little
girl wanted so bad the stuffed bear. It was new and unused, but 5$ dollars was
just too tough to handle, according to the child’s mom. She was a military wife
and the young child talked how her father was off to war. One could tell that
this was a family that was indeed facing tough times. They had a decent
vehicle, but I could tell it was missing studded tires and it was that time of
year where black ice makes driving a challenge. I am sure if they could have
afforded such, it would not be a bother, as she seemed to be a conscientious
mom, a good mom. But steadfast reasoning said the stuffed bear was not on their
budget. I offered to lower the price, but with a smile the lady refused. I was
ready to offer it up to the young girl for free, but pride said don’t bother.
It was based on the fact that her husband was off defending freedom, for all,
at any expense. With that, there came sacrifices. Now pulls in the Land Rover
with two bimbos. The rover had these mechanical gizmos that lowered the car so
the occupants didn’t have to use calories to exit. They quickly purchased the
stuffed teddy bear. Then one lady brought it to the vehicle so Tito the Massif
could tear it apart. They laughed, I am sure the little girl was crying. So
right here, in the privacy of my home, social serenity is infiltrated by a
class act. Based on “play” money versus “stay” money. The class system has
taken on the color of a revolution. The green light for change beckons our
attention. So senators beware, the ax yielded in efforts to fulfill your
unscrupulous acts is about to fall. We rely on honesty is the best policy, at
that you have failed America. People forget just how much power they have.
Soon, they will be confronted with that fact, like an awakening and no longer
yield the right-of-way for your selfishness. Then maybe garage sales will
become nothing more then a social gathering, not as a necessity to survival.
With that, remember the words of Guthrie, “Good morning America…don’t forget
that I’m your native son”! I know my senator has forgotten, me, America.
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Finally the “hill” decided to
take up the matter of high crude oil prices, in turn, gasoline price gouging.
Maybe it should be called the “heap”. But that wouldn’t go to well with
“hillbilly”, meaning a “bill” from the “backwards” area of the “hill”. Neither
would it sit well with “Hill Reaction”. The Web defines such a reaction as:
“The light-dependent transfer of electrons by chloroplasts in photosynthesis
that results in the cleavage of water molecules and liberation of oxygen”. In
laymen’s terms, it means somebody turned the lights on in the chambers and it
startled the sleeping senators who due to their senile seniority pissed in
their pants and went so excited they started hyper-ventilating. Chloroplast
means plastid! A little different meaning then “plastered”. Knowing what the
latter means is a pre-requisite to entering Yale! Really, in a test for entry
into a well known college - a favorite on the list of the “Best Ten” drinking
schools of higher education - a questionnaire
asked what “plastid” meant. Multiple choice found the overwhelming
answer as “a good drunk”! Woe, off the subject. Crude oil is used to make oil
company executives rich. In turn, such monopolization of wealth is used to
re-elect the chloroplasts. What is leftover is used to fuel America. The latest
hurrah over the high price of gasoline is good, as the skyrocketing costs will
in time have an effect on the economy. Why do you think we are about to see a
changing of the gourd, I mean the “Jolly Green Giant”! Greenspan, man that guy
has one hell of a span, his ears hear all! I thought moose had big ears. This
guy would beat the ungulates in any “hearing me” contest. Maybe that is what
makes him such a good bail-out bondsman for the “heap-sters”, he can hear
himself think. So decisions are heard before being put into practice. But the
“black gold” executives are shooting themselves in the groin. Most of them are
over-weight or out of shape so they can no longer see their own “foot”. Yes
indeed, the “hill” gang grilled the top executives over things like 200 percent
increases in salaries, but still received no answers, just smiles. They didn’t
even have to take the 5th. See, they were not under oath. This
hearing in front of the “Hulk” Commission - once upon a time called the Senate
Energy and Commerce committee - has had similar hearings for eons. But this was
the first time that the executive thieves were not ordered to testify under
oath. Hey, without the oath, a smile is all that was required. In fact, one
leading senator said the entire affair was contemptuous. But the chairman of
this commission, the “Hulk”, he was the one who disallowed any oath taking
requirements, which is usually the norm unless there is something to hide. It
is basically a privilege of immunity. Why? Well he has a son that is constantly
performing “little whites”. His son is a state senator. His son will soon be
taking the “Hulk’s” position on the “heap”. See, we were tricked into passing a
bill in Alaska that disallows righteousness in representation and allows only
nepotism. So when swearing in time comes for father like son, no oath will be
allowed. It is called freedom, what America is all about. The “Hulk” likes to
set precedence that will forever change the course of ethics, which diminishes
freedom for most. See, he was instrumental in changing the law that would allow
Alaskan crude oil to be exported. The Brits were behind it. The Brits own more
of Alaska then Americans, when it comes to the resources. So the Brits won the
civil war in Alaska. Really, you will count more lime’ flags out and about
Anchorage then the red, white and blue! And our state constitution is pretty
specific as to who really owns the resources, the citizens. But the
constitution is only a piece of paper. The Brits have Tony, he likes to blow
his nose on that piece of paper. Maybe he wipes his ass on the real
Constitution, while George laughs. Originally, the oil from Alaska was allowed
to go only to America and could only be transported aboard American built and
registered tankers, Nixon made that law! He’s dead now. See, even though very
little oil was transported when the law was changed, just the fear of such
raised the price of gasoline on the West coast by 3-cents. It made millions in
profits for the refineries owned by the Brits. Hey Tricky Dick is gone, so what
is wrong with a little change, as change is good when it fills the registers!
Also gone is the influence of Senator Warren Magnuson, who was instrumental in
the Marine Mammal Protection Act, legislation that is also in the cross-hairs
of the “Hulk”. See, Ted is trying to change the laws in another state, he
doesn’t believe in staying out of other people’s business. He quietly
introduced legislation to allow more tankers to enter Puget Sound, unescorted.
Now such tankers are not coming from Alaska, as the oil exports from the 49er
are at an all time low. So it doesn’t benefit Alaska at all, the “Hulk’s” home
eminent domain. And once again it is the Brits who are behind this one. See, he
has an agenda. We know the son will be the next nepo-senator. So we already
have a name picked out, the “Runt”. Anyway, everybody is asking these
executives as to why the price of oil is so high. Here is the reason in a
numbskull! Maybe that is supposed to say, “nutshell”! See over the years, the oil
companies have not been able to corner the market, with respect to oil prices.
That makes it hard for a company to plan for the future. And the way the price of oil can fluctuate,
it can spell disaster for a CEO’s bonus or “golden” parachute should the
shareholders revolt. The U.S. was the gluten consumer of oil. With so many
different imports from so many different factions, it was very easy for there
to exist no control on the price of oil. Then along came China! We now have
constipation. The refineries cannot put out enough, because they cannot get
enough! Maybe that is supposed to say,
"competition. So in reality, the oil executives’ dream came true. They
needed another competitor, so they could then have control of the market. This
plan has been going on for many years now. During the 80’s and 90’s, it was not
unusual to see the price of crude oil “tank” over-night. It takes an awful lot
of money to find oil. It takes an awful lot of time. So it was a tough call to
know which way to go with respect to investments. I remember one time when the
price of oil was steadily going up. It was still shallow with respect to a good
comfort level, but looking bright. So even though the profit margin was low, it
was an acceptable gamble to “explore to exploit”. It meant time to mobilize the
drilling rig crews. Well a few months into this scenario, when the wintertime
sky in Prudhoe Bay was abuzz with activity from stick being rammed into the
core of the earth, well the well price collapsed overnight. And just as fast,
the drilling rigs were placed once again in the graveyards to rust. Planes
filled with roustabouts were sent south. So the executives have been looking
for that “Mother Lode”. Not the pool of oil, but the competitor. They found it.
China now provides a stiff competitor. More then that, it provides ballast, in
efforts to stabilize the see-saw. With that, the oil executives unveiled the
plan. That plan was to drive the price of oil up to a bargain that allowed two
things to occur. One, as a safety factor for exploration expenditures should
the oil futures begin to collapse and secondly, a price that didn’t curtail the
use of crude oil such that people would begin to whine and still be able to
dine. Crude oil pricing affects everything. From cereal to beer. So what you
are seeing know, it is all part of the game to stabilize the business. And it
offers the oil companies breathing room, to adjust the prices so that it
doesn’t really diminish the bottom line, the “profit margin”. They have
basically been successful in getting control over the consumers, the citizens,
the voters, above and beyond what our own representatives have been able to
accomplish. So it doesn’t matter what a senator or congressman does, as they
have allowed the hen house to be raped. And instead of trying to re-coup
control, they have decided to abide by that quote, “if you can’t beat them,
join them”! It basically follows differential calculus. Just a fancy name for a
difference of opinion! See, when the price of oil was low, fluctuating
differentials of a few dollars was devastating to the well respected two
Martini lunch. But now, hey the price of oil can fluctuate by $10 dollars and
still not arouse the decontamination police - rehabilitation – as prohibition
doesn’t exist! So the oil executives can sit back in comfort, realizing that
they have been successful in garnishing full allegiance from the mountains, to
the prairies, to the oceans, green with cash! And they know that we are all
bending over to their desires, every time we do anything and everything, accept
maybe picking our noses! But maybe it is just good business, as softening out
the fluctuations in reality performs the same as a perpetual motion machine.
The larger the differential, the better it is for continuance of jobs that
would normally be cut due to low commodity prices. It is the ultimate test of
supply and demand, the only difference, they control the supply and the demand,
by knowing what we are willing to pay. As far as shooting themselves in the
“groin”, they have immunity. Control does that. Unfortunately, greed gets the
best of everybody. So the executives will keep on testing the waters. And when
Kenney’s little creatures start flying about due to the fact that people are
unable to purchase snot rags, well maybe it will be a turning point in history
to take back our country. Call it the “New Me” revolution.
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Alaska’s
“I’ll quit”, “I’m depressed” senior citizen senator celebrated his 82nd
birthday the other day! Happy birthday Ted. I guess Ted will try to break
Strom’s record as the oldest person to haunt the chambers. He is the senate Pro
Tempore president. That comes by way of age. We all know Ted has a “pro”
temper. It is despicable. I’ll get to that in a moment. The other day I was
once again stuck waiting for the check-out lady to determine if the “thing” was
a sweet potato or a yam. The way she handled it would have made the porn
industry proud. It was a week before Thanksgiving. Within a few minutes, it had
become a world-class debate amongst the nearby checkers and other customers –
young to old. One kid who was in heaven with the open candy samples said it
looked like a “rabid” Pelosi. Everybody paused over that one. Must be home
schooled! So I entertained myself with the tabloids. Wow, Martha had a date
with the Hulk! Right next to that story, a cover picture of the Hulk himself.
See, we call Ted the Hulk. So he was pictured on another tabloid that said
something to the effect that the state of Alaska would disappear or go bankrupt
back to communist control when he disappears. So I guess we are safe for a
while. Wow, the yam and sweet potato capper has now required the store
manager’s assistance. Hey, aren’t I in the “quick” checkout isle? Anyway, it
was good to see Americans debate. Maybe we can get a farm subsidy to not grow
one or the other so next year it doesn’t become a confusing factor or continued
testament that many “parents have been left behind”. But debates are good.
There was also a wild debate going on way back in “Da Capitol”. See,
Congressman John Murtha made an historical speech this week. It was a show of
his genuine frustration over the war in Iraq. The speech insisted on what he
called a “re-deployment” strategy. Basically an exit strategy. The same thing
Colin Powell tried to get through to the present administration an instead
found himself on the exit chute. Murtha is a celebrated war hero. He spent many
years reciting the Semper Fidelis. He visits the thousands of injured troops at
Walter Reed each and every week. Just listening to him, his sincerity over the
issue of a crazy war, one soon realizes the true chaos and predicament at hand.
And he is no Michael Moore! Murtha is not a peace-nik. But when the peace
aficionados and the military political aficionados are talking the same talk,
we best listen. And Bush, as far a hero? Well the verdict is still out. I would
say far from a hero. When I saw Murtha take a stand, I cried, as it was truly
an American Statesmen at work. Now Ted also made a speech this week. It caught
just as much attention, but not with the news media pundits, but with the late
night comics, as it was a genuine joke. It was a speech that made me laugh and
at the same time embarrassed to be an American and an Alaskan. Ted made it
clear and convincing that he would “quit” the senate if the money for “bridges
to heaven” was taken out of the budget. See, Alaska was earmarked to receive a
whooping $452,000,000 dollars for two bridges that were desperately needed. One
would provide a bridge to an island owned by the governor and the other bridge
would provide access to land the site of an almost failed agricultural project.
The latter bridge would allow cows to be trucked to Anchorage for milking. The
“pork” was made possible because Congressmen Billy Goat, (R)Alaska, is the head
herdsmen of the transportation appropriations committee. Did you realize that
the senate and house has the option of “committee on committees”? It is a
“Mobius Strip” diversion. Anyway, as far as Ted’s threat to “quit”, I say “Go
for it Ted”. And Ted believes that “the” WMD still exists in Iraq. He made
comment that Hussein buried the weapon in the desert, as it is only the size of
a toilet or some other bathroom fixture. See, Ted gets the good intelligence.
He is forth in-line to take over as the commander in thieves. Maybe that is
what he is holding out for. The way things are going for the other three on the
hierarchy tree, maybe Ted can get his picture in the dictionary, instead of the
tabloids. Tabloids are like hemorrhoids. I guess for Ted’s birthday, somebody
sent him a gold plated shovel. So as our senator once again provokes an “Idiot
Wind”, maybe the “stories in the press” are justified. It is not the first time
that his outbursts have gained popularity. He once told the pundits that he was
“depressed”. His aides came running to clarify the statement, that it wasn’t
clinical! As an Alaskan, when I heard he was ready to quit, I was ready to fly
to D.C. and help pack his bags! It is not good for a senator to renege on his
promises. Alaska didn’t get the money for the bridges, just the money! Yes
indeed, all that money and not one iota of accountability. People think Ted has
been good to Alaska, not so. He has been too greedy with “pork” and we have
become dependent on such an out-of-proportion extravagance. Some may say that I
have a biased opinion and the fact that Alaska was still a territory in some
respects, that the extra bags of loot were required. Not so. Alaska was one
state that didn’t have to become a welfare state. See, we have oil! But we have
been raped. By the big oil companies, some that even have the audacity to fly
their foreign flag on this soil. You know, instead of banning flag burning, why
not allow burning the lime’ flag! I once saw a British flag flying on
Independence Day! Right here in Anchorage. There should be a law against such a
“slap in the face” display. During the pipeline construction days, when the
state was trying to figure out how to charge the explorers who exploit the
“black gold”, one economist said that if it were handled correctly, Alaska
could be just like Kuwait. He said that the Kuwait model had a background check
and was so successful that it kept the economy in check. Alaska could have done
it the same way. Why didn’t we? Well if that were the case, we would have
become pretty independent. That breeds independent thinking. It breeds a
different political setting that doesn’t have to rely on senators to find ways
and means to make toilets flush. Independence, especially economic freedom, is
bad for senators. As it develops a mindset that is more in tune to what is
going on politically over that of economic concerns, like jobs. So this state
has been held hostage. And with the likes of Ted still holding out that
somewhere in the desert the size of California, there is a toilet that has
Hussein’s signature to guilt that the war was justified, well Ted, get digging!
Maybe British Petroleum can provide you with a camel, as a reward for your
efforts to secretly amend the Magnuson Act, to screw up Puget Sound. Why don’t
you just mind your own business! Do you think Warren would appreciate your
action against his pride and joy bill to protect “his” Sound? Hey, big oil
already screwed up the Prince William’s Sound. So is this like monkey see
monkey do mentality? Matter of fact, why don’t you start minding your son’s
business. He is following in the foot-steps, but the comics need fodder also.
Hey, this land is your land this land is my land, need more the likes of John
Murtha and less likes of Hulk like characters. But it is difficult to change
horses in midstream. So, if you find that toilet, remember, use your right hand
to clean your ass, and don’t shake my hand. Maybe it is time to move to the
Penn state! Thank you Statesmen John
Murtha, and remember what Bob Dylan sang:
“There’s a lone soldier on the cross,
smoke pouring out of a boxcar door.
You didn’t know it,
you didn’t think it could be done,
in the final end he won the war,
After loosing every battle.”
And
for the Hulk:
“Idiot wind,
blowing every time
you move your
mouth,
From the Grand Coulee Dam to the Capitol.
You’re an idiot babe,
It’s no wonder you still know how to breathe.”
Oh
one last thing. That kid was right about the “rabid” Pelosi. See, Alaska’s lone
star Congressman, Billy Goat, called the California Congresswoman a “rabid”
skunk, on National Public Radio! Name calling, prerequisite qualification of
our present day societies so-called leaders!
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to SHORT STACK List
It
was August of 2003. Up here in Alaska, it was not yet cold, but getting darker
and darker with each passing day. Then the lights flickered. It was a big deal
because the lights I am talking about are the lights that illuminate the runway
at the Elmendorf Air Force Base – for aiding the safe return of F-15 pilots in
training. Not only that, the back-up generator at the base hospital had limited
run-time should it kick in when the primary power goes dead. The management at
the EAFB’s Central Heating & Power Plant scrambled to secure the generators
and steam boilers. They did a good job, especially with the limited manpower at
hand. What normally required at least a three-person crew to tame the huge
boilers and massive generators, was down to “one” hand on duty! See, the hourly
workers decided to “strike”. This came about after a rejection of the “last
best offer” when re-negotiating a collective bargaining agreement with the
Local 1547 IBEW. The workers had a “No-Strike” clause in the contract, so a
walkout was not only illegal, it was borderline insane. Needless to say, they
were all terminated. It was said that the Base Commander made it clear and
convincing that those guys may get their jobs back, but they were denied access
to “his” base. So the management now scrambled to secure enough qualified power
plant operators to fulfill the requirements of the contract, basically keep the
lights on and the military families’ houses warm! This was a challenge. There
are not that many seasoned and qualified operators in and around Anchorage that
were then without work. But within a few days, the management was successful in
filling the ranks with at least a few highly experienced technicians and went
about the business of generating electricity. It was critical for several
reasons. There was a war going on over in Afghanistan and Iraq. There was
heightened security following 911. So this base was on high alert status. Had
the lights went out, if an accident occurred, it could have been pretty ugly
all around! This was not a way to support our troops. And a wayward bird can
get into trouble really quick around here, it is the big city of Anchorage that
surrounds this base. And what if the operating room guys had to work without
power? So the technicians hired to keep the plant running felt like they were
doing their duty to serve their countrymen at a time in need, besides just
taking home a paycheck. It takes time to learn the ins and outs of a power
plant, even for seasoned operators of the trade. But that is what the new crew
did day in and day out. Then the sad news started surfacing, something we were
not made aware of when hired. After dedicating two years to learn the plant
inside and out, rumor started surfacing that the plant was scheduled to be
decommissioned. Why? Many reasons, but nothing official. The management denied
any such rumors. The original plant was built in 1954 with a dual purpose in
mind. Natural gas is used to create
high-pressure steam. That steam is directed to steam driven turbine generators
to create mega-watts of electricity. As a by-product, the exhausted steam from
these “non-condensing” generators is directed away from the plant in pipes to
heat the buildings, hangers and military family housing out and about this huge
complex of a base. That is why it is called “centralized” heating. It is by far
the most efficient means of heating. See, to have individual “heaters” or
“boilers” in the buildings, it is inefficient. Each unit has a loss factor. So
combined, it is one hell of a loss. With one giant plant, the losses are
minimized - engineers are smart! The housing was the biggest and most critical
load. Hey, we want to keep our troops nice and warm! And that is where the bad
news boys come into play. See, somebody in their infinite wisdom decided that
it was better to “privatize” the housing at the base. Ted, Alaska’s senator,
had his fingers in the cookie jar. According to reliable sources and publicized
articles not denounced by senator Ted, it was like this: “In 1997, Stevens invested
$50,000 with developer Jonathan B. Rubini. In 2002 Rubini and his partner
bought back the senator's interests in their deals for $872,000. During the
time that Stevens had money invested with Rubini, Stevens steered a $450
million contract to Rubini to build and own housing at Elmendorf Air Force
Base”. Now comes the real ugly part. There was a program started
during Clinton’s reign that mandated the government get more efficient. Some of
the things called for required switching military power plants to natural gas,
which is a more efficient fossil fuel. The base’s plant had already done that
back in the 60’s. And the efficiency calculations for this plant were
unbelievable, as this plant even at some 50-years old was a well-built
fortress. So the plant was already covered under the government’s own program
called Energy Savings Performance Contract. That is where the base’s privatized
housing throws a wrench into ethics of worth. See, the privatized housing had
to be just that, “privatized”. It couldn’t take advantage of the low-cost steam
heating, as the government wasn’t a utility, so pricing of this commodity was
difficult. So the plant lost its contract to supply steam heating. With that,
the only thing left was the electrical demands. It basically meant we lost a
leg and were limping by to keep buoyant. But without the heating demands, it
made the plant too inefficient, without some costly modifications. The
management tried their best to privatize the entire plant but failed. That is
because the vultures saw a lucrative niche with Uncle Sam. The local
municipality applied and was not denied a certificate to change their domain to
include the privatized sector of the base. With that in-hand, they made a
lucrative deal to supply all the electricity, for everything! We lost our jobs.
As we speak, there is a wrecking ball on target to destroy a perfectly
functional power plant! It all started with the housing “privatization”. But
here is where the real truth in the matter rests. Had the privatization of the
housing been kept in-check with respect to how it affects other livelihoods,
maybe the system could have been orchestrated to resemble some sort of benefit
to all involved. But I don’t have access to my senator. Rubini does. So Ted
makes a killing on his investment, and I lose my job. Bottom-line, Ted ruined
my livelihood. If he would like to debate this concern, bring him on. To end,
recently Ted spoke out that “Attacks hurt the state”, with regards to “pork”.
Well Ted, your attacks also hurt the statesmen, like me and my fellow brothers
and sisters. It has caused a disconnect in righteousness along with hate and
discontent within the union membership, and a handful of workers are now and
still without work. My job was a union job, now another union guy is doing the
same thing, generating electricity, but from a “privatized” source. Some
gained, others lost out. Bottom-line, it is setting a very bad precedent here
in Anchorage, with the unions. Why? The entire thing is a debacle. It basically
means something can come our way, from your office, that allows another union
position to be taken over by a member of the same union. And nobody gives a
rat’s ass. In the old days, before people were afraid, a thing like this would
indeed bring about solidarity and other union members would be speaking up. But
the “privatization” has the effect of silencing. Sure this is only “peasant
peanuts” when compared with the big picture, but it was all some of us had in
our daily strive towards life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. I hope you
have a nice 82nd birthday and with Thanksgiving upon us, it would be
nice to give thanks that I was gainfully employed, along with about 40 other
once proud Americans – who strived day in and day out to help out our military,
as civilians! So I will try to enjoy Thanksgiving, but the table trimmings will
be scarce. For our sake, don’t renege on your promise to quit. “QUIT”, then I
can give thanks. Yes, “QUIT”. Just like those guys who thought that striking
was to their advantage when this nation went on high alert, an action they
thought would buy them some time, trying to use the situation to their
advantage. It didn’t work, as the brass called their bluff. There are many here
in Alaska that would like to finally call your bluff. You won’t go down in my
book, or my son’s book, or my daughter’s book, or my wife’s book as a
statesmen, but as a “Quitter”. Even if you don’t quit, as your actions have the
same effect on some of us! Oh, hope you enjoy your investment garnished from
privatized housing! That was money that once fueled my paycheck! Now, I am on
unemployment! Thanks for ruining a family’s dream. Enjoy your steak while I eat
SPAM!
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I was out walking my dog just
the other day. It was a nice walk but the 6-inches of newly fallen snow made
the walking a definite exercise workout. As we headed towards home, a benchmark
that signaled we were on the home stretch was the traffic light just down the
road, maybe an eighth of a mile or so away. That was where we were headed, just
a few minutes away at the slow stride. Yes indeed I thought, in the near future,
closer to home. Then something caught my attention. A car headed our way, after
waiting out the traffic light that said “no go”. The vehicle approached our
direction, still in the road a safe distance away. Now, did that car come from
the future? Remember, I was headed to the traffic light, it would be the
future! The vehicle came from there. So once again, did the car come from the
future? Figure that one out Albert!
CopyRight 2006 ERP/MSK Media Back to SHORT STACK List
Finally found a commercial
that sent good news. It was sponsored by the API. The American Petroleum
Institute is to the oil industry as NASA is to the space industry. For many
years as a measurement specialist on the Trans-Alaska-Pipeline here in Alaska,
there came many a times when the API was used as my guide and referee to
unravel some very interesting concepts with respect to measuring the oil
flowing through the pipeline. The API provides the best of the best with
respect to time proven research. One would expect no less, as all the research
is funded by big oil and not necessarily for big oil. Case in point, take the
evaporation studies performed by the operator of the pipeline verses the
research by the API in concert with Exxon. The operator of the pipeline was
grossly underestimating the crude oil boil-off, or vapor loss to the
environment. The API performed an actual study and found out the truth. So when
this idol of the oil industry sponsored a commercial at prime time, I heeded
the advice. It was a take on cutting down on fossil fuels, by slowing down to
conserve the resources. Especially when gasoline, along with crude oil, is at
an all time high. Basically, it called for a 5-mile an hour decrease in the
highway speed limits. With some follow-up information of just how much that
could decrease our daily dependence on foreign oil imports. Why not? See, here
in Alaska, the speed limit used to be 55-mph maximum. The roads through the
wilderness, which starts about 50-miles away from Anchorage in both directions,
well these roads are designed to handle maybe 56-miles per hour pushing it.
Frost heaves come and go. These culprits can make driving more like flying!
This was a government mandated speed limit following the Arab oil embargo, and
before SUV’s were produced as a mistake. But then Uncle Sam became greedy, so
the speed was raised up to 65-mph. It had to do with something about
politicians driving faster in efforts to disenfranchise voters by redistricting
attempts. Maybe the speed allowed them to slip away from the lawman! Now even
though the road systems throughout the 49er couldn’t handle such
abuse, it was just like “No Child Left Behind”. If the state didn’t raise the
limit, it meant no hand-outs from the Fed.’s through DOT appropriation welfare
programs. And with each mile that was designated under the 65-mph rating, it
meant at least a million-dollars per mile loss in “pork”. So every mile counts.
Every 1/8-mile counts! Bottom line? Every inch is worth a few bucks. Coming
into Anchorage from the southern one-lane expressway, the speed limit is
65-mph, all the way up to about an inch from the first traffic light. Really!
Hey that way the state gets a double whammy. Fed bucks plus traffic violation
income. So I went out for a drive along Turnagain Arm, south away from the city
proper. It was a beautiful day. Soon I noticed a bunch of cars behind me that
had not yet seen this advertisement from the API to “slow down”. See, that
advertisement came across the wire on a news channel. People in Alaska don’t
know what “news” means. They think it has something to do with a “nuisance”. So
I had about a dozen cars tailgating. I don’t give into road rage. Next thing
you know, I am being pulled over by an officer in uniform. It was ticket time.
See, following the time that the Fed.’s raised the limit to 65-mph, most older
senile senators couldn’t drive that fast on the unimproved roads. So a state
law was passed that made it a violation if one was going less then the posted
speed and slowed the progress of “five” other vehicles. It was enacted to keep
the senators in D.C., to do their job in getting the pork along with the fat!
Hey, we pay them to be there, not here! Basically, if one was driving
64.999999999-mph and five other vehicles were tailgating and also going
64.99999999-mph, you get a ticket! So that is what happened to me. See, I was
going only 60-mph. Hey, 65 minus the API 5 equals 60! So here I was conserving
according to the API commercial and I get ticketed. Now I tried to explain this
to the officer. He said it didn’t matter what the API said, as the Fed.’s
hadn’t changed the limit. He didn’t even know what I was talking about with
this API stuff. Actually he thought I was provoking his anger, as API also
stands for Alaska Psychiatric Institute. So it was a ticket handed down as a
warning. Which meant, according to the instructions, to be corrected within
5-days. Now does that mean I can drive slower for the next five days or the
other way around? The officer didn’t know the answer either. I called the
traffic division and explained my situation. They said it was against the law
to slow down! So it meant that I had to drive the speed limit for the next
5-days, then the citation would be null and void and I could then again drive
slower. Damn, and I was trying to save resources. So a call into the DOT was in
order. Let us face the facts, the President even asked people to conserve! I asked the DOT engineer in charge, or was
it in training, when the speed would be adjusted lower to abide by the API
standards. Here again, they wanted to know what a psycho knew about speed
limits. And according to the DOT guy, changing the speed limit is costly, as
all the roadside signs must be repainted and reposted. And they just finished
replacing them all because the signs double as a target in efforts to sight in
a hunting rifle. Yes indeed, right before the hunt, every roadside sign becomes
a blistered sign of disgust. Along with that, all the driver education study
guides have to be reprinted, which means hiring translators, so the guides can
be offered in every conceivable language. And up here, that is really difficult.
See, the native languages are still being studied, so that one language can
have a zillion different spin-offs, especially trying to decipher a numbering
system where no numbering system ever existed. That is really the reason that
roads have not been paved to the villages. So anyway, so much for the API
commercial. But when the CEO’s get called in front of Congress to testify why
the price of gasoline is so high, they can just play the commercial and take
the 5th, and send the committee chairmen a real 5th, to
sooth his depression because “his” sign still reads 65 MPH. Oh, and here is one
for you. If the Fed.’s lowered the speed limit following the API endorsement,
which by the way lists the U.S. Department of Energy as the expert witness
source, well the savings to the drivers would cause a 2-million dollar a year
deficit with respect to fuel taxation. And that amounts to the combined
free-for-all senate and house “give ourselves a raise”. And with an election
year before us, no one in his or her right mind would consider raising the
gasoline tax, again. It would be for their raise! Or would they? They can do it
so secretly that you and I would never know it happened, as it would come our
way not as “news” but as a “nuisance”!
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Had to fly to FF the other
day, Fabulous Fairbanks that is. I don’t travel by air that much any more, so
it is always an adventure, especially when subjecting oneself as a guinea pig
to the trials and tribulations of the men, dogs and women of the TSA. Anyway,
this trip came about just one day after the TSA unveiled new plans to allow
back some of the citizens rights under the doctrine of life, liberty and the
pursuit of happiness. See, it was discovered that prisoners could possess
fingernail cutters in jail. So the ban of this article, classified as a
terrorist weapon when airborne, was considered cruel and unusual punishment. But
the new plan also allowed scissors to accompany travelers, and there exists a
whole set of rules and regulations that determines the legal “clip”. Really, I
saw some guy on the news. His title was something to do with “Airline Bureau
Chief in Charge of Scissor Regulations”. The news media is great at coming up
with new titles to fit the situation, trying to convey to the unsuspected
viewers and listeners that the best of the best experts are available. Anyway,
he tried to explain the scissor theory. I am sure this will definitely cause
delays. If I had enough money, I would buy every ticket on a single plane
flight and hire - for the day - a bunch of homeless people. Then equip them
with a variety of different styles and sized scissors. Just to see what the TSA
would do. Can you imagine a group of about a hundred homeless people all
showing up at the same time to go through security and voluntarily declaring
“their” scissors? But homeless people can’t fly on airlines. Most don’t have a
valid ID. So as a practical joker, I decided to bring a “slide rule” as a carry
on. Slide rules went out of style at the same time that ethics was lost within
the House of “ill repute” representatives. They are all whores. What does “ill
repute” really mean? Actually the carry on wasn’t intended as a joke. See, I
had just read a report, pretty fascinating. It was a report that was produced
out of paranoia so was funded by “porkanoia”. It had to do with the
government’s concern that terrorist could wreck havoc with electronic gismos,
with some sort of outer space detonation. See, we developed technology that
would allow an explosive detonation in space to produce interference with
electronic equipment. It could rain down upon the masses causing all kinds of
problems with Pac-man and other gizmos, especially remotes. And modern man
cannot function without “remotes”! So besides making cell phones to laptops to
g-string pods useless, it could cause a new kind of rage. The “top-secret”
generated interference signal could also affect handheld electronic
calculators. Now that poses a problem with pilots, as without all the
electronic stuff in working order, it can mean taking evasive maneuvers. They
can still land the plane if the runway is in sight, but would not be able to
figure out how much fuel remained when told to hold a pattern or get a hand
signal from an F-15 pilot to divert. See, airline pilots have a new problem to
contend with, as with Air Force Two - a bigger plane then Air Force One -
flying around the country in efforts to deliver Dick Cheney to fund raising
parties for Tom Delay’s defense fund, extra fuel is required by commercial
airlines. Dick has priority. All those airline delays these days, it has
nothing to do with the weather! So I decided to carry a “slide rule”, just
incase. Finally I made it past the “kiosk” and headed towards the boarding
area. Now the TSA questioned the “thing”. Not one certified expert could
identify the “thing”. I caused a delay. I told the guy in uniform that it was a
“slide rule”. He had no idea what I was talking about. Then I showed the guy
how to multiply 2 x 2 to get 4. I could tell he was thinking, by the eyebrow
twitches. Then he smiled, he thought I was a magician. Announcing out loud that
I was right, the answer was indeed 4, and the stick said it too! Hey, a
magician gets celebrity status, so it was time to put the shoes back on. Damn,
what is that smell? Hey, these aren’t my shoes! Finally it was time to board
the plane and as quick, preparation for liftoff time. “The compartment cross-check
is complete, 170 passengers on board”. The typical routine coming from
the head flight attendant as heard over the intercom, real professional like.
Then the buzzer signaled. It was the guys up front. That usually means that
they have a problem, it can mean delays. But this time around it wasn’t a
mechanical problem. See, this plane is a Boeing 727, 100 series. It only holds
96 passengers. So a head count of 170 meant something was definitely wrong. And
with obesity widespread and diminishing the maximum passenger count down a few
notches, maybe it meant castaways. But who wants to hideaway to Fairbanks? It
was only 30 degrees below zero! Soon the head stewardess, with the help of the
flight crew, performed another head count. Wew! Only 78 passengers! This time
the “no child left behind” calculator was used. Now this was a pretty old
plane. Probably had as many years flying as years wherein the Alaska senate
seat has been kept warm by the Hulk. That’s what we call Senator Ted. As we
taxied down the runway for takeoff, the flight attendant did her safety
briefing. All the time, she was holding a roll of “duct” tape. Maybe it is used
to tape closed stubborn luggage, ones that have defied laws of mechanics and
destroyed military style zippers. See, the carry on phenomenon begs to break
the theory of 2-pounds of shit in a 1-pound bag. Yes indeed, we are approaching
5-pounds. Maybe this is a plan in efforts to stuff more people on a plane?
Upper class and lower class! See, if the lower fuselage doesn’t hold luggage,
it can be passenger space for the middle class. What ever happened to the
frills of flight? According to the pilots, due to turbulence, the beverage
service would be postponed indefinitely. So a bottle of mineral water was
passed around! It is always turbulent up in the friendly skies of the “Last
Frontier”. Bottled water! Finally it meant wheels down in Fairbanks. On the way
off the plane, I just happened to notice the flight attendant placing the
“duct” tape in its appropriate drawer, it was labeled “Emergency Gear”. Wow,
this was teamwork. See, I felt that this was the true sign of Americans taking
the terrorist threat as a personal issue of concern. I had the slide rule, just
incase the pilots had to make some calculations. And according to the TSA gurus
who were at first threatened from the slide rule, as it can extend to act as a
weapon along with the fact that the flight attendant had the “duct” tape, we
had it made. “Hey, look at the size of that guys Leathermen“, was heard out
loud as I arrived at the passenger waiting area, with the slide rule well
protected away in the case and hanging down like a real tool of the trade, at
least a 15-inch hanger. It made me feel proud, I looked for a flag to cry upon.
Wait a minute, as the local headline news caught my attention. An Anchorage
postal worker was accused of sending bulk mail for free. For over a year now,
this guy has been videoed at least 13 times helping out American businesses,
including some non-profits no doubt, disgusted at the ridiculous price of
stamps. I am still pissed at the U.S. Postal Servants because they lost a
5-pound bag of Jelly-Bellys destined to a young kid serving in the military.
Have any idea just how many beans that is? Anyway, this guy saved corporate
America about a half million dollars. Now according to the U.S. attorney
prosecuting this guy, she recommended that he should not be released to the
custody of his family while awaiting trial. Why? Well this U.S. Postal worker
“is considered dangerous due to mental illness, alcohol abuse, a penchant for
weapons and a history of making threats. He is a disgruntled employee and has
access to weapons of concern”. What puzzles me, he was an employee of the
service for 29-years. I didn’t know the pony express enjoyed no term limits.
Reminds me of a comparison. Here in Alaska we have a disgruntled senator that
has occupied the halls of Congress in D.C. for at least 29 years! He admits
depression. He has threatened to “quit” if he doesn’t get his own way. He is
known to have a violent temper when in control of the podium. He has a “pork”
abuse. He has a penchant for weapons in the form of appropriation bill
“riders”. And to end, he just voted on a tax break for corporate America, just
doing his job I guess. So maybe now they can afford stamps!
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It was a bastard of a day,
weather wise. A Chinook had hit Anchorage from up Turnagain way. It meant rain,
sleet, snow, hell-hail and wind. With the latter, 80 knot gusts hitting like a
Hurricane Carter punch. Dylan sang a song about the Hurricane, with that, came
a little more then 10-minutes claim to fame! “To the white folks who watched
he was a revolutionary bum.
And to the black folks he was just a crazy nigger”. That was some time
ago. So it was the kind of day designed to pounce upon the spirit in efforts to
bring back memories. Spooky like. But remembering just what, that was the
mystery? Then I heard it on the radio, John Lennon’s Imagine! It was December 8th.
John was a great man. He will be remembered in that capsule of time honored
humans, like the Hurricane. So was that why it had become a bastard of a day?
As it was that same kind of day back in 1980 when some absent minded individual
thought it was time to put John’s movement to rest. The legacy lives on, even
today, some 25-years later. Same with the “Hurricane”! Lennon’s “War is over if
you want it” movement will reign, some day soon I hope. But today was in
remembrance of another individual. Frank Mosquito was his name. The name is
what hijacked my attention. For an Alaskan Native, it must have been a last
name that meant something of interest and possibly painted a story about his
family’s tree. Names mean an awful lot with respect to the Native Alaskan
dialect. I have probed the language from time to time. The dictionary is about
the size of the bible. It is a unique form of communications as is the entire
Native Alaskan culture also unique. Mr. Mosquito has to be a legend and would
be included in my time capsule of notable humans. First off, he was born and
raised in places like Counsil, Mary’s Igloo and Nome Alaska. Gold rush towns!
Now Mosquito only graduated from the third grade! In this day an age, that
would be cause for concern, that “no child left behind” thing. But back in the
early to mid 1900, things worked a little differently, especially up here in
Alaska. So what did a third grade education do for Mr. Mosquito? First, he was
passionate enough to stay married for 57-years. That meant 24 grandchildren and
32 great-grandchildren. He was a retired hotel maintenance worker. All this on
only a third grade education! I didn’t know the man. But it seems his trials and
tribulations could tell future generations that education isn’t everything.
Maybe it teaches that family values, community values and cultural life styles
is what really counts. That must have been Frank Mosquito’s formula for
success. Hey, power to the real people. Frank Mosquito practiced it. Man of
this Day, Frank Mosquito.
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Maybe I have it all wrong.
See, I get upset with all the blatant thievery that goes on in America,
especially within the branches of government. Someday the branches will break,
was until today my sentiment. As a matter of fact, it is grand larceny
protected by grandstanding immunity. I never thieved anything in my life. But
just the other day, I realized that maybe thievery is as American as apple pie.
Ok, I did steal an apple off of a tree once upon a time, but it was for a
science project, based upon Newton’s Principia. Ok, I tried stealing some
gasoline, it doesn’t taste very good, that too was a science project, to study
the siphon effect. Anyway, I was watching an interview in action at the local
coffee shop. I am talking kids getting ready to enter pre-school. So the
interview was a prerequisite to see if they could uphold the “No Child Left
Behind” doctrine. See, if a child is earmarked as a definite left behind, they
get a free ticket to attend a voucher school, or whatever it is called these
days. In Alaska, it means free tuition at a school that hides under the
umbrella of Christianity, and secretly funded by the U.S. taxpayer through
defense appropriation bills. Now three of these kids enrolled in the interview
process were totally out of control. Making enough noise to anger most of the
patrons that frequented this place, semi-retirees! But I didn’t mind. In fact I
smiled. Maybe it was laughter! As it was interesting to be face to face with
the kids that will pay for the present deficit strangling the country. Within a
millisecond, these rambunctious kids were board with the interview and said no
thanks, as playing was the priority at hand. This place was new and unexplored
territory. The parents realized that they had zero control over the kids. So
with a smile, let them loose to terrorize the clientele. Soon the three kids
decided to take on the candy machines, just like outlaws. Three old fashion
coin operated gizmos sat in the corner of the shop. Now these things are built
Fort Knox style. But at 25-cents a whack, along with the fact that the
fortified glass bulb held at least a thousand balls of consummated sugar, well
it meant some loot. But it wasn’t the money they were after, but the goods.
See, these kids were young and small. So the temptation to sneak a hand up the
throat of the gum machine was the test now at hand. As if it were designed to
insight such an interest. Hey, these machines have not seen a design change for
at least a century. We all know about this temptation. The parents remained out
of touch. First the older kid tried, his wrist just couldn’t make the take. So
he lobbied to the next kid, the same defeat. Then both lobbied to the smaller
kid. But he was younger and didn’t really understand what the older kids were
getting at, or trying to get at. So they forcefully incorporated his help, it
is called an “arms length agreement”. Soon, the little kid was robbing the
smack. These kids, as a team, became pros in no time flat. Nobody cared, as the
machines were for some non-profit organization that participated in AID’s
awareness. Then the kids, so excited over their achievements of mischief, well
they had to tell the grown-ups. The parents were amused. They sent the kids
back to get some gumballs for the three other kids that were still interviewing,
the ones that fit the “No Child Left Behind” profile. So I got to thinking.
With the first three kids, it was like two lobbyists with a senator to do the
dirty work, thievery with immunity. Hey, “They made me do it”, could be the
senator’s lullaby – I mean alibi! The other three kids, well they will become
the honest workers of America, like teachers. But the way things are going, the
teachers will have to learn how to rob the gumball machine, just to stay
economically buoyant. Sad state of affairs it is. Our own government leaders
are cleaning out the candy jar and the cookie jar, for themselves and their
loyal lobbyists, leaving a legacy of corruption that makes Al Capone a
candidate for sainthood! So not all children left behind are left behind, as they
are the ones running the country, or is it ruining the country? And remember,
the “No Child Left Behind” doctrine started in Texas, the outlaw state, and
forced upon us by elected lobbyists!
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Listened to a talk show the
other day. It was on the FOX network. It was an interview with Karen Hughs,
with Hannity as the lead-in lead-on news baby. Really, this guy is a grown-up
baby. Maybe he ingests too much Viagra and instead of fortifying his manhood it
fortifies his idiocy. This guy is what we used to call a genuine “Candy Ass”. I
don’t know how Colmes puts up with this guy as a tag-team opponent. Surely it
is no match. Must be easy money for the liberals, as monkey brains is the only
requirement to outwit the witless. And this guy Hannity thinks he is a
spokesperson for the Cheneyites. This guy is the best laugh on the tube, and he
isn’t part of the comedian circuit. Just goes to show that the news is on
censorship and controlled. So when he decided to interview Karen Hughes, it was
indeed Rodney comedy. I haven’t heard anything about Hughs, considered some
men’s best friend, since her failed attempts at becoming a writer, some book
called “Last Train to Cuckoo-Ville”. Supposedly, she went tired on the Bush
watch and headed back to Texas, but turned away when she found out Tom Delay
was no longer the SugarLand God. So if not a Texas welcome, it meant back to
the “hill”. See, Texas and D.C. are the only places where the Post Office is
banned from flying mug shots of the “most wanted”. Anyway, after listening to
her defend the Bush administration, I believe I have it figured out. The entire
administration is suffering from ED, even Laura. Hey, was it Laura that spilled
the beans on that flame named Valerie? Anyway, I don’t know what ED stands for,
because even though ED commercials fill prime-time hour slots, I still haven’t
got it figured out. Is it a scam? It must not affect normal healthy people.
Anyway, ED seems to fit the current state of affairs. It must be akin to a
scathing disease, like leprosy, one that must remain confidential. Known only
to the knowing. See, since most of real America has always doubted the fact
about the mission accomplished occurring before the mission started, it meant
intelligent people had it already figured out. Most of us knew that the Bush
underlings, which has been whittled down to a cast consisting of females, had
some form of complications. The “No child left behind” coalition never learned
that the cart cannot come before the horse. The party used to be coed, but most
of the guys with a real heart have decided to experiment with some medication
known to cure ED. The guys never had any balls, all eunuchs. Yes indeed, most
of them lost their “you know what” during the first Bush fandangle. Remember
Abscam? A presidential pardoning was good for freedom, but those under the “catch
and release” regulations never had the balls to look up to their fellow men,
with honor. How many guys did old man Bush get off the hook? You know, I think
the pardoning thing has become an abusive thing. Isn’t a crime punishable by
time? At least time off from participating in government. Why should those that
break the law for the president find such freedom on “easy” street? No matter
what they tell you, they surely are not breaking the law for the “good” of
America! If it were not a crime, a pardoning would not be necessary! So with
the remaining administrative harem - maybe more like a sorority - it is well
known the Kotex wearing underlings will always protect the boss, in this case,
George. But it is different this time around. There is no faking it. These
underlings actually believe that George is an honest, ethical man and at the
same time a reputable person. They have
to be kidding! Maybe there is exists multiple Georges out there. Just like
multiple Saddams. So Karen is now super-engaged to George, as his
under-Secretary of State. Gag’m with a dildo! So maybe it is a disease, as
these people cannot be realistic. Past presidencies have been riddled with
controversies, and it was easy to see the cover-up in action. Not today though,
as these people that continue to protect the president are not on the cover-up.
They actually believe in cultivation. What I mean here, it is more on the scale
of some cult following, like the Moonies! Indeed scary. Hey, cover-ups are
normal and routine. It can be expected. American’s put up with it, then
eventually we elect another witless and it starts all over again. But this time
around, it is different. It is America infiltrated by religious fanatics that
think God is telling them what is right and what is wrong. And since George is
the chief, his talks with the Almighty have meaning. But I think it is Dick
Cheney behind the confessional. So please Karen, tell George that killing is a
sin, even if he thinks God said it was OK, even for democracy. It is a crime in
the eyes of the Creator and abetting is not a good bet! Maybe your return back
to D.C. is for a reason, maybe it has meaning beyond politicking. Maybe the
Creator has sent you back to lick some sense into boy George. If that doesn’t
work, maybe try spanking! 43rd definition of a President: “A
castrated man placed in charge of a harem.”
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I
would make a fine Supreme Court appointee. I didn’t say judge, as with any new
employment, there is the probationary period. But after the initiation, it is
in like Flynn. Maybe it should read, “In like Roberts”. Can you imagine getting
a job for life? No yearly performance appraisals, no reprimands. Just throw the
resume away. Job interviews suck. It is ironic that the highest court in this
land supports their positions on the bench for indefinite employment when the
rest of the work force depends more and more not on union security but “at
will” employment. At will! In a nutshell, if your boss doesn’t like the way you
comb your hair, he or she becomes the “Terminator” and lets you rot away in the
unemployment line. I believe the Supreme Court should pave the way for all Americans,
not just their selfish selves. It is all part of that life, liberty and pursuit
of happiness. If they get something good, there should be some semblance of a
trickle-down mandate that is good for all. So why do I believe that I would
make a fine probationary justice? Well the first thing I would do is reverse a
trend that pollutes the existing court system, an authoritive atrocity that has
become the poison of a once great system of justice. People ridicule this
system time after time after time. And they should. It is not as good as it
should or could be. The problem exists in this thing called “precedence”.
According to the Web: An earlier
occurrence of something similar. So if a court rules that O.K. is not
guilty of murder, if another case comes up that is evidence exact in nature,
the rule of “precedence” automatically dictates the outcome. That is why you
will find case after case listed in a court briefing. It is all based on
“precedence”. Well, that is pure bullshit! It is a way wherein attorneys can
decide up-front whether or not to take on a case, based on the evidence and the
sequence of events. See, lawyers and attorneys are only in it for the money.
Very few are in it for justice. So using the “precedence” thing, it is like
knowing the outcome even before the gavel falls. Or at least increasing the
odds of success. Now sometimes, with a jury, the outcome may be skewed a
little. But the outcome is still controlled somewhat by precedence. Regardless,
the outcome of each and every ruling sets precedence for the next go-around.
And precedence is appropriated by venue. So what might be considered and ruled
a crime in one area of the country is completely different in another place!
Can’t judges “judge” for themselves? But remember, most judges are elected by
the Bar Association, controlled by the local lawyers. So local state judges
have to abide by the wishes of the lawyers, not by the fundamental rules of the
courts. So this precedence thing is like a cancer, it grows. It is the
underlying culprit that makes justice unjust! Bottom-line, if “precedence”
insists that something bad is good, it will forever be good, even if it is bad.
With that in mind, the first thing I would do is continue to abide by the
statute of limitations. The “precedence” theory places much too much burden on
the judges. If I were sitting on the high court, I would make it a point that
precedence is good for two years, that’s it. After that, we start all over. So
if we were all good citizens and the courts were vacated for at least two
years, the case precedence theory would become null and void. The courts would
have to start all over, with the judges doing their jobs. Without “precedence”,
the judges’ word would rule. And the appeals process would work the same way,
all the way up to the Supreme Court. Now over time, “precedence” would once
again rule, but hopefully it would provide true justice. And after a time if
things started to once again get tilted over to the wrong side of the fence of
justice, then the high court judges could go on strike, for an entire two whole
years. Remember, they have a job for life. So such a strike would allow all the
judges to vacate the bench. What a golfing vacation. In fact, more golf courses
would have to be built. More caddies would have to be employed. Wow, maybe
this “precedence” thing is ruining our
economy, or at least contributing to stagnation. So, to hell with “precedence”
and its worth of wrath. Time to cleanse the slate and welcome back justice! Oh,
since I was an “at will” employee, I am looking for work. So send me to the
high court, I will make a difference!
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Had
to make my yearly visit to the U.S. Post Office, just two weeks before
Gristmas. I no longer call it Christmas as it really has noting to do with
Christ. It has more to do with consumerism gone mad, so it follows very close
to National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation more then the birth of “Thy Savior”.
With that in mind it means Clark Griswold at the helm, therefore I dub it
“Gristmas”. Anyway, it was your typical postal holiday affair, long lines,
disgruntled clientele. I amuse myself with peoples’ attitudes, especially this
time of year. Waiting in line, it is interesting to eavesdrop on the counter
affairs. A lady walked up to the vacant counter that could handle parcels
“under 10-pounds”. Is the entire post office personnel roster on light duty?
Anyway, as the lady placed package after package on the counter, the postal
maid sang off the canned speech. “Any liquids, perishables or breakables?” Then
the lady went puzzled. Which sent the postal clerk puzzled. Everything went
quiet and all eyes were on this poor little innocent lady! Maybe she just
looked innocent. See, Americans are doing their duty to screen possible
terrorist activity. Soon the puzzled customer spoke up. “Well it was a liquid,
but I am not sure anymore(sigh & pause), and it may be perishable, but not
right away(bigger sigh & longer pause), and breakable, it could be”. It
became a game for all of us waiting patiently to be served, as by now we were
all trying to guess what it was she was sending off to a relative or a friend
on the unsuspected gift list. And it
had to be something home made. Then the postal maid tried to also figure out
what it was, without trying to get the customer to give away the contents, as
it was a present. We were all stumped, as it seemed to be a liquid at one time
and maybe it was still close to a liquid, like a pseudo-plastic. That’s a good
one. Did you know that “Ketchup” is considered a pseudo-plastic, because of its
flow or non-flow characteristics! That is what the guy behind me whispered
under his breath. Anyway, we were all stumped. Then we found out it was a
“Jell-O mold”. I heard one guy at the end of the line comment, “What about
Hazardous?” Yes indeed. The postal worker forgot the “Hazardous” routine during
the questioning. Now, engage a postal worker and a patron in a conversation
about jell-o mold technology, so much for timely delivered gifts! So it looked
as if the counter help had been decreased, as the jell-o thing gainfully
employed the worker for what seemed like eternity. Now the next lady in-line,
she was smiling, as she was also mailing off gifts, more Jell-O! I thought
Martha Stewart banned this stuff! But according to that next patron at the
counter, the best recipes utilizing the gelatin are found in a magazine called
Taste of Home, a food magazine designed for rural America. Soon the supervisor
appeared up front, to make the decision on whether the jell-o mold was covered
under the “General Regulations” of the U.S. Postal Regime. See the Post Office
is ahead of the NSA, as out-of-sight cameras and microphones allow the
head-cheese to watch the action up-front and run away through the secret
back-door exit if a situation goes postal. So to see the supervisor up-front
meant something. Yes indeed, jell-o mold lady #2 had the magazine out, paging
through the recipe section. Now the secret monitoring gizmos paid for by the
taxpayers are supposed to be used for after hour burglaries. But the technology
makes it so easy. So the jell-o thing was keeping the patiently waiting
clienteles’ interest level just above the holiday “Bah-Humbug”. Again, the
subject of a hazardous substance was intentionally left out with the jell-o
stuff. Soon the fun was over with, so I entertained myself with the “General
Regulations” posted in the corner, probably acting as a decoy in efforts at
hiding a camera. I paid attention to the basic rules for mailing things. It
talked about the liquids, the perishables and breakable things. Those three
items utilized at least one-half of the colorful poster board and made
presentable by “graffiti” kids. The other half of the poster was reserved for
the “Hazardous” stuff and made by adults! And it read something to the effect
“We help you. You help us”. A white box displaying the word “Vodka” was
depicted in the top photograph, with words of instruction, “Wrong”. Below,
another photo with the word “Correct”, as the “Vodka” wording was completely
blocked out. So what was the message here? You buy a case of Vodka, black out
what it really is, take it to the postal counter and act like you don’t know
whether it is a liquid, perishable, breakable or hazardous. Just say it is a
Jell-O mold. It gets mailed, somebody gets nailed. So why is it Jell-O over
fruit cake this year? Must be due to the cost of gasoline, as shipping costs
have gone up. It is the thought that counts! How much does a pound of jell-o
weigh anyway? Not a trick question. Really, a recipe for a one-pound fruit-cake
yields a Newtonian disconnect. Hey, what about that fruit-cake? It is not a
liquid either, its not breakable either, it is in no way shape or form
perishable. And Hazardous? Just don’t be in the line of fire when one goes
airborne! Hey according to the Jell-O experts, this stuff now comes in 23
irresistible flavors! Maybe somebody who subscribes to Taste of Home can
incorporate jell-o into a fruit-cake, for an irresistible Non-Newtonian
Gristmas gift. Something that even the Postal Service will forward, just cross
out the word Fruit Cake on the shipping box!
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Christmas
tree shopping! What a drag this time around. Especially when the guys from
Minnesota didn’t make a show way up here in Alaska. The price of gasoline
mandated no such pilgrimage this year, as it would have most likely meant a
negative return on any up front investing. So truckloads of Christmas trees
never made it across the border. It had almost become a tradition. So the fresh
cut trees were in short supply. Believe it or not, Alaska has thousands upon
thousands of wooded acreage, but nothing grows in this northern climate that
resembles a tree fit for decorating. Sure one can go out and cut a “scrub”
spruce tree, but it usually means only a two-sided tree, as prevailing winds
are devastating to normal growth patterns. And the needles from our wild grown
trees are like thorns! So it means either an imported tree or “that you know
what” alternative! I purposely procrastinate and wait until a few days before
Christmas to purchase a tree. Usually it means the “Tree Nobody Wanted”. I like
the left out ones, those a little bent out of shape. Everybody and everything
needs a home at Christmas. And according to Native Alaskans, decorating a tree
on Christmas Eve brings good luck. So waiting until the end has merit. But this
year, not even an orphan tree could be had around town. Not here, not there,
not anywhere! It meant the dreaded back-up plan. It meant a “fake” tree. We had
been contemplating a faker for some years now, but the kids had voted against
it. They didn’t outnumber, just defiant in their demands. But now grown up and
still insisting on the real kind, with the current state of affairs, there came
a compromise. Amazing how people agree on something when there is no other choice.
So I headed over to the local Fred’s. All the trees were on sale, real good
mark-downs. I thought I was getting a heck of a deal with this one particular
clearance sale tree. Standing 9-feet tall, it came equipped with lights. It was
a three piece set-up. With the snap of the fingers, it was like instant
Christmas tree time. Of course when I tried to assemble the top section back at
my home, that is when I realized why it was such a deal! My ceilings are only
8-feet high! Time for the hack-saw! This was occurring at the same time my
family watched National Lampoon’s Christmas. I felt like Clark Griswold! But in
no time flat, it started looking like a real Alaskan tree, out of proportion.
Now the only complaint right off, man it had enough lights that it gave off
heat like a radiator! Really, you had to stand back. Where’s the sunscreen? So
one good thing, I wouldn’t have to stoke up the fireplace. Then the bad news
came, just one phone call away. Supposedly, the lights had been recalled, due
to a problem only a NASA space engineer could understand. Anyway, this was bad
news from Fred’s very own real live manager. To take the tree back was about to
mean no tree for this year. And all the trees had been sold out. But there was
hope, and it was Christmas time. As the guy told me the lights could be removed
and news lights applied. In fact, they told me to come back to the store and
they would provide lights for free. But I had enough lights from over the years
that I could string the entire boundary line of Alaska. So with a glass of wine
in hand, I invaded the tree’s electrical lighting system. Soon, that glass of
wine was done with and replaced with a pair of scissors. Now talk about Rubik’s
cube! Trying to untangle the maze was more of a challenge then the multi-sided
block. Finally, after about 4-hours of non-stop cussing and temper tantrums,
most of the lights had been removed. I cheated, as the wired lights towards the
back of the tree could stay. My hands were trashed, from the branches and
broken light bulbs. At last, I had calmed down enough that my family re-joined
me in the Christmas festivities, now engaged in placing the new light strings
on the tree. They had retreated to their rooms earlier on. I guess the sight of
me prancing around with scissors was a little scary. Wow, the faker didn’t look
so bad after all. And no longer was sunscreen a prerequisite to enjoying the
tidings of comfort and joy! So Christmas day was indeed joyous. Even with a
fake tree after so many years with the real Minnesota McCoy. Everybody was in
agreement that the tree was not that bad. About mid-afternoon, one of the
strings decided to take a siesta. I was sound asleep. So somebody decided to do
some trouble-shooting. Now in my rage at the task to rid the tree, I had cut most
of the connecting wires, as that was the only way the bad lights could be
retrieved. And in my fit of rage, some of the remaining lights were still
hooked to an electrical plug. When that was plugged into the extension cord
during the trouble-shooting ordeal, low and behold we had a Christmas tree
fire, on a faker! The cut wire was the culprit, as it had made contact with the
tree’s skeleton, made of something that conducted electricity. It was
definitely a Griswold Christmas after that. You know, seems everybody is in a
real good mood this season, even the firemen. Over the past years, the
Thanksgiving to Christmas season seemed so-so. Americans were too scared to
enjoy going out of their houses. It was the terrorist threat upon us that
beckoned concern. But this year, Americans have taken back what we once
cherished, freedom. We no longer allow the threat to stand in our way to enjoy
ourselves. And with most of America calling bluff with the present Bush
administration, we can show the rest of the world that we are not just all
followers where leaders are not. So it is comforting that Americans still have
it when push comes to shove, even if the push means a mutiny, as that is the
best Christmas present this country deserves!
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For
the first time in many years as the grown kids can remember, I was able to
escort my family to the Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. In the past, it meant a
work schedule that played interference. This year I was in the unemployment
line. See, my senator, he made an investment and swayed a government contract
to his buddy which in turn allowed a private entity to build housing for the
military families here in Alaska. He was caught, so divested his interest. His
buddy - and partner in crimes against humanity - bought him out. Hey, somebody
who takes advantage of another’s economic situation through prejudice of greed
is a criminal. MY SENATOR’s $50-thousand dollar up-front investment turned into
$2-million! In the end, his activity cost me and a few dozen other workers
their right to work, at the Air Force base here in Anchorage. Merry Christmas
Ted, F.H. I won’t elaborate what the F.H. stands for. It is all part of the
B.F. system, the Buddy Fuckers. Yes indeed, they will fuck you before they are
fucked out of office. I decry and despise using the “F” word, and it only comes
out freely when I think of Senator Ted. He will go down in my book as the
ultimate “pork” pervert, not a statesmen by any means or stretch of the
imitation. About the only thing worthy of his namesake is a toilet bowl. It is
sad that I feel hate and contempt against another human, this time of year or
for that matter anytime during the year. It is not my normal M.O. and sinful.
But when leaders can no longer lead for the good of the commonwealth, this
nation is no longer. Ted you are a joker!
You have no place of rest on this Great Mandala. Only a task of
restitution to those you have harmed, like me! Anyway, the Mass was
interesting. It looked more like a convention of the lawyers. For real, every
big name attorney was present, with their families in tow. These guys are religious?
They really think that the Almighty’s prayer, “Lord, just say the word and my
soul shall be healed”, is meant for them? Maybe senators think the same. Hey,
Mark Twain was right about senators and congressmen. Do we have any true
leaders out there? I have one up on Mr. Twain. He thought he lived during
politically corrupt times, I live in Alaska, in 2005! I can hear him turning in
his grave, with laughter and ridicule. Like he wants to write some epitaphs,
about the present day crooks running the country – to ruins. Look at Tom Delay!
And one Alaskan congressman continues to say Tom did nothing wrong!
Redistricting in efforts to disenfranchise the “black” vote is what it was all
about. My as well just place Mr. Blackman back into the ranks of slavery! I
forgot, I am in church. Hail Mary! Now this Mass is open to all and is held in
the downtown area Performing Arts Center. So it gets its fare share of homeless
people, those that roam the streets and back alleys for a regurgitated mouthful
and maybe a few coins for a bottle of Mad Dog. Hey, when Ted takes up the
pulpit, he acts just like a Mad Dog. So the congregation at the midnight hour
was that of the rich man and a poor man gathering. I got to thinking? When the
ushers pass around the “hat”, what if a homeless person decided to take a few
bucks? Would it be thievery? And if so, whom would the theft be against? The
church is a non-profit, so it doesn’t enjoy the same protective rules and
regulations as a “person”. They basically cannot have ownership. So once back
at home, I posted this quagmire of a question to some logged-on bloggers out
patrolling the Interestnet. I received feedback from many lawyers and a few
guys you could tell were senators in disguise. See, they can’t enjoy holidays,
as they would rather be far and away from their constituents and wrecking havoc
on a once beautiful Constitution - the work of art from our fathers! Their
families have probably disowned them, and their only friends are lobbyist, like
Jack-off Abramoff. Hey, it will never be the same, start telling your kids
that, right now. But nobody could really answer if it would be a crime or not,
for a vagrant to steal from the collection basket. Interesting. But a senator
E-mailed me back with a real doozy of an answer, or opinion. See, he said that
he used to be a lawyer. So I assumed he was now a senator. He said that every
damn person in the mass should file an individual lawsuit against the vagrant.
That way the poor guy would end up in so much debt that the court would put him
in jail forever – from assessments for legal fees against his crime. And it was
unlikely that the accused would ever show up for a court appearance because he
didn’t have a home, and the U.S. Postal Service doesn’t deliver to cardboard
boxes! This was a true response! He went on to say that homeless people don’t
deserve to attend a church service, as that is reserved as a weekend thing for
people who had already paid their dues to society. From the E-mail, it sounded
like this guy was a church-going maniac. Can you imagine if the insanity behind
this kind of thinking was to have access to change the Constitution? I forgot,
they already have. It is no longer “The People’s Constitution”, but a
constipated Constitution for the corporations, “not for the people”,
by the senators, “not by the people”. Pretty sad state of affairs
it is! Leadership gone brainless. Amen. So to all the present day senators, how
about a Christmas present? Please scrooges, give us back our country. Take the
challenge, yell tell corporate America to go to confession or go to Hell. Give
them the penance they deserve, give us our liberty so we can get on with our
pursuit – that of happiness!
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It
was close to the 06 New Years initiation. The time of year wherein one can
reminisce about the past year’s achievements. Of particular interest this year
was the Iranian economy. I always wondered about that country’s money
situation. Let’s face it. No oil! That may be why they want Iraq so bad.
Anyway, the Iranian economy is booming. And of course, corporate America is
lending a helping hand. See, I ran, She ran, we all ran from Abscam, that
country’s leaders are achievers of mistrust and mischief. They know that the
American “greenback” is swamping the Iraq economy – in the billions. So they
invested in printing machines. And they found a special kind of paper, from an
outfit here in the states. It is the same paper that our RWB – Red, White &
Blue – future and fortune is printed upon. Now, as a bonafide American living
on American soil and following the American principals of justice and ethics, I
can’t even buy such paper. It is protected. The reason is simple. If I tried,
the Treasury Police would be knocking at my door. As with modern day printing
machines, hey counterfeiting is made easy. But this crime is not supposed to be
made easy, as the main ingredient is not supposed to be so readily available.
But like most corporate wrongdoing, the CEOs think they are doing nothing
wrong. As long as it benefits the stockholder, it is not wrong, it is not evil,
it is not a sin, it is nothing more then a requirement to stay in good
standing. Once a CLEO falls out of that “good standing” category, it means
golden parachute time. I decided to change the CEO, Chief Executive Officer, to
that of CLEO, for Chief Lying Executive Officer. Hey, if the shoe fits wear it!
Did you realize that all the “seed” ingredients for biological weapons of mass
destruction were sold to the Iraq regime under insane Hussein the same way? Yes
indeed. Some outfit called the American Type Culture Collection - some
congressmen thought it was an outfit that exported dolls - made a bunch of
money back in the late 80’s – under Reagan and Bush, selling the dangerous
stuff to Saddam. All under the cover of “Research” and approved by the U.S.
Commerce Department. Because the CEO from the “doll” outfit was also on the
Commerce Department’s advisory committee – easy street stamp of approval. See,
we were helping our friend Saddam develop another Auschwitz for the Iraqis,
because we knew that some day they would ruin our economy by investing in
American money. Anyway, some outfit from the states made a bunch of money
selling this specialized paper overseas. So stockholders are celebrating this
New Year with Don Perignon! The Iranians used the excuse that they were making
“Pinatas”. So roll the press. And now, millions of fake $100-dollar bills are
flooding the markets. Fake money! Hey, I once had a collection company try to
cajole me into paying a bad debt that wasn’t mine. I have a common name. And my
social security number was given at age 16 when I was still living back east.
Now New Englanders like to recycle things, even S.S. numbers. So I ended up
getting a number from a dead guy, who had my same name except for the middle
initial. He owned some property back in R.I. After many years of property tax
neglect, because his family couldn’t afford expensive attorneys, well the dead
guy owed a bunch of back taxes. So the debt was sold to some sleaze outfit that
employs people who don’t deserve a S.S.N. and should be sent to Auschwitz, as a
reminder! Anyway, after numerous attempts to tell these idiots they had the
wrong guy, I played a joke. I sent them a bag of play money, $100-dollar bills.
Never heard from them again. My belief was this. The debt collector received
the envelop with the fake money. They didn’t realize it was fake, as play money
looks and feels pretty real these days. They had the cash in hand! So they
stole the money and wiped out the debt with the stroke of the keyboard. Out of
sight, out of mind let’s party mentality. Hey, “No child left behind”! So with
fake money, Iran is funding the insurgents in Iraq, buying equipment to produce
nuclear weapons, and sending a bunch of refuges over to America, to buy up real
property with fake money. Now that country still doesn’t deserve the crook of
the year award. Once again, it is corporate America. Just this year, 3000
corporations have turned their employee savings & investment pension plans
over to the U.S. Pension Benefit Guaranty Corporation. This outfit is funded by
the private sector, until the pin-ball machine says “Tilt”. In 2000, this
government sponsored program enjoyed a $10-billion surplus, right before
another Bush became president. Now, with George W. Bush holding onto a stinking
cesspool credibility, the program is $450-billion “under funded”. Bottom-line,
the deficit is to the point that it will take another American taxpayer
bailout. This program used to pay 75-cents on the dollar towards a pension
plan, when a company went bankrupt. So Joe Retiree would only get $1500 each
month instead of his guaranteed $2000. Still not bad! But with the pilfering
going on today, making it easy street for corporate America to renege on
promises, it amounts to about $200 dollars per month. It doesn’t even pay the
electric bill. Hey, this year began with a bang. Bush was out tooting his
Social Security agenda, in efforts to privatize the beast of burden. But it
didn’t get off the ground. Why? The stock market is stagnated. It hasn’t gone
anywhere and it won’t go anywhere. It is saturated. Just like when you miss the
nail and nail your thumb. It looks OK, but the throbbing internal pain is bad
business, it takes a needle to relieve the pressure, bubble busting time! All
the signs exist for a stalled market. The economy is good. We have a war going
on that is keeping the Hail-Burton production line running through minimum wage
counterfeiters. The only piece of the puzzle that isn’t in tune is the market.
Why? Like I mentioned before, it too has become saturated, by the middle class.
It won’t go anywhere, as the rich people can’t stand the working class!
Remember, they like living in a class of their own. Our interest in “their”
market is like anthrax is used to promote fear upon the masses. It may have
been a plan, get everybody on board, as stockholders – whoopee! Then we would
all find out that the boat was overloaded and even with powerful engines
running, it couldn’t get out of dry dock. So corporations are running to Uncle
Sam for bailouts. You know, if we minded our own business here at home, maybe
we could establish some semblance of righteousness and once again be proud
Americans. Maybe it is time to ban corporations, let the mom & pop
federation that at one time propelled this country to greatness do its thing
again. It would mean the sons and daughters, American’s children, following in
our true leaders footsteps. They did it before, we can do it again, under their
guidance. Maybe this can work all the way back to the family farms, when ethics
and morality had meaning. Better yet, maybe it is time to mobilize the 60’s
generation, now and forever. We had it in us then, we still have it in us. Time
for a revolution, against political corruption. Let’s face it, corporate
corruption is just a side business learned from political cowards bent on
corrupting the foundation of liberty. It is time to ban forever the stench of
wealth that has strangled our liberties. Time for the likes of the Clintons and
the likes of the Bushs to take a hike. Time for the “millionaire’s club” of
senators and congressmen to liberate back pocket greed and turn it in for
Constitutional “Capital”, as an asset for the people and controlled by the
people. And maybe we need an eleventh commandment, “Thou shall not commit to
special interests”.
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ED? I
find this abbreviation showing up during prime time ad time. Modern day
commercials tell you nothing about something that makes money. So intelligently
designed to keep you guessing, in efforts at confusing the brain to think you
need this stuff that cures that something, in this case the “ED”. Now “ED” can
mean one of two things. It either stands for “erectional dysfunction” or
“explosive diarrhea”! Up here in Alaska, we have one individual who suffers
from both ailments. See our Commissioner of Oil Royalty is trying to bankrupt
the state. He thinks the new-age oil companies, the little guys trying to pry
into the lucrative big league, need yet another break. Alaska is a welfare
state. Alaska need not be. We could have been a self-reliant state, just like
many small Arab nation countries. Alaska is in effect a little country, once
all on its very own when still a territory. Taxation and corrupt politicians
fixed that independence. Let’s face it. All of those vacation give-away
contests, the fine print always excludes the 49th state, so if we
can’t be part of that fun, we my as well just become independent! Succeed from
the Union I hear many would be contestants cry! Hey, anybody seen that
Publisher’s Clearing House crew anywhere around Alaska yet? But we can not now
strive for independence, as we blew it. I mean our representatives blew it.
Maybe they’re all infected by ED, the explosive type. Back to Project ED. See,
the mechanism that causes “explosive diarrhea” is well known to the medicine
men. There have been trial and error tests performed to incorporate the “ED”
bug into the environment, as it is the fastest way to immobilize an entire
Army? Project ED was a secret project that worked on a way to make the “ED”
bugs thrive and a means to deliver the bugs, at the enemy. We have in essence
become the enemy and target of our own doings. And the terrorist even played
with the same idea. Can you imagine if there came upon us an “ED” pandemic? It
could cause havoc on the economy. Wall Street would close down. The
transportation systems would be inoperable, as clean-up crews would be
overwhelmed. Hey, “Explosive” means just that, no control! And air-line
traffic? Hey with only one can on board, forget it! Really, mankind has played
with germ warfare from the days of old. Mushroom spores were known to cause
“peacefulness”, so it was used as a deterrent against invasions. Timothy Leary
experimented with the natural stuff. The Brits, our coalition partner in crime,
tried to poison the Indians of the Great Plains, by providing blankets laced
with smallpox. So maybe the Brits have something to do with the latest pandemic
scare, especially an ED outbreak here in Alaska. The experts thought it was
going to be the “bird flu”. Now the Brits have a lot at stake in the oil
dealings here in Alaska. If the state’s Commissioner of Oil Royalty is under
the influence of “ED” and does succeed in screwing over the residents by
lowering the royalty, then all the big oil companies stand to litigate. For a
company like British Petroleum, it would mean a lien on the state! To date,
15-billion barrels of crude oil have been sucked out of the ground in Prudhoe
Bay. Simple math says that the state could owe the Brits a billion barrels by
the new proposed royalty standard. We call it a standard because the
Commissioner stands to become a high paid consultant to the oil industry if he
pulls this off. And after suing the state based on “lost profits”, the state could
be looking at rebating the Brits in excess of $50,000,000,000.00, not including
interest. Anyway, the “Explosive Diarrhea” is sweeping the nation. Maybe the
guy that let the anthrax spores loose in D.C. had access to the “ED” bugs.
Maybe the terrorists were successful, as anything - even the deadly stuff - is
acquirable. Just ask Saddam Hussein and his affiliation with the American
corporation called ATCC. In fact, the “ED” bugs can probably be found on-line.
Really, just look at what can be found on E-Bay! Hey one idiot who was known to
have Republican affiliation here in Alaska sold and shipped over 30-pounds of magnesium wire onboard a passenger airline. Now
this stuff is bad business. Anyway, maybe the next pandemic will be just a
bothersome one, sending everybody to the stalls. Instead of highway traffic
jams, congestion at the “Head”. Maybe it is time to take stock in “toilet”
paper! Hey one year it was Wal-Mart, profits galore through cheap labor. This
year it was Exxon, profits galore through high gas prices. Maybe next year, the
TP industry will be on top of the pile! I think that will be my prediction for
the New Year. Happy Droppings!
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Lite
this! Lite that! You see it everywhere nowadays. But I have no idea what that
“Lite” is supposed to mean. I may be stupid, as if it has anything to do with
“reduced” entertainment, ridiculous! Would you go for “Lite” sex? Or what if
your boss told you to expect a “Lite” raise? Neither does Webster or Merriam
understand this “Lite” business. No child left behind I guess. Actually it does
mean rock, a fossilized rock. So Bud “Lite” is fossilized suds. “Lite” sex is
fossilized sex. “Lite”, no child left behind! Hey, I listened to a teacher that
had a confrontation with a grownup that was part of the ever increasing
pandemic of “adults all for being left behind”. It was over the correct
spelling of “Light”. See, the dad drank one of the cheap beers, a “lite” beer.
So he knew his stuff and wasn’t about to let an educated “woman” downgrade his
son’s ability to spell. Yes indeed, a parent teacher conference was called, as
he knew his rights and knew he was right with the “Lite” spelling. See, the
teacher tried to correct this kid’s spelling. But the kid argued that his dad
helped him on this one particular homework assignment. So the dad couldn’t be
wrong. I mean this could cause a son to loose confidence in the dad. A father
and son disconnect, just like George and George. Or Ted and Ben. So in the end,
the teacher lost out, as the principle decided the guy was brain dead and my as
well let the student enjoy being like father like son. Hey, Dan Quayle was rite
about Potatoe, wasn’t he? What’s that? Oh, he received a Presidential pardon
over that, so it didn’t happen! Anyway, “Lite my fire”. Honestly, if the word
“lite” has replaced the word “Light”, why not start changing all the familiar
words. Night can be nite, bright becomes brite. Sight can mean site. Which
completely makes chaos out of the English vocabulary. Eight can now be eite.
But the dad was rite. Wait a minute, “rite” is a religious thing. We need
separation! Maybe so, between the adults left behind and the kids we do not
want left behind. Hey it mite be a mite!
Mark Twain was a man who
looked ahead to the future. What I am talking about here is his disdain and
disgust towards our senators and congressmen throughout the land. Especially
how they chose then and more so now to distance themselves away from the voice
of the people, for the voice of special interest. In a nutshell, he believed
that they were all criminals. Twain has a growing following today, as politics
has gone beyond special interest to destructive self-interest. We can argue
back and forth about our representatives and possible hidden agendas that may
look devilish on the surface, but what I present here was a good intention - maybe - gone out of control. I
don’t like to call these thugs “my” representatives. I am on Mark’s side when
it comes to disdain and distrust labeling. But what I present here should ravel
the feathers of anybody who works for a wage and takes home only what Uncle Sam
doesn’t steal away. That share is an unfair share, especially when abuse
forecasts what you will have left in efforts to pursue life, liberty and
happiness. Actually, the senate controls the nation’s various theft rings. They
have been indoctrinated as the “godfathers”. But modern day crooks aren’t like
the Mafioso, garnishing someone’s income to protect neighborhoods. See, the
underworld targeted local businesses, not the general population. They were for
the people! Nowadays, it is just the opposite. Today it is a garnishment on
everything except breathing air. Oh, corporations are also exempt from
taxation. Maybe we would be better off with a Mafia in control. Hey, we would
all be making union wages! Now what is presented here, it has been very
beneficial to a select group of Alaskans. It has been beneficial to the Alaskan
delegation. During the 5-years of litigation that stalled the construction of a
much needed energy pipeline from the rich oil fields of Prudhoe Bay, many
bargain basement settlements were used as fodder in efforts to get “Trickery”
Dick Nixon’s “Handcock”. His approval was necessary to build the steel
dip-stick across Alaska. One very important issue meant settling the disputes
over land ownership. In the end, there came what is in reality a treaty, called
the Alaskan Native Claims Settlement Act. In a nutshell, it was mandated by
Congress to set up regional corporations instead of reservations. History tells
us that reservations were a mistake, as all the precious resources ended up on
such “badlands”. Yes indeed, the lands of incarceration given away by our
representatives in the end turned out to be the valuable lands. Bravo to the
Indians! See, the lands that the Indians once roamed were desperately needed
for grazing cattle. So what was thought to be the prime real estate was stolen
away, in exchange, came the reservations. Anyway, that wasn’t about to happen
in Alaska. The corporations set up in Alaska by Congress were funded by the
U.S. taxpayers in efforts to provide seed capital for success. It was supposed
to work like this. The money would be invested in the local economy and outside
infrastructure. It was supposed to allow the Native Corporations to become
self-sufficient and with that, a benefit to the shareholders - basically the
tribesman. So after some thirty years, the project has had mixed results. Even
though “disadvantaged & minority” status would allow the bonafide
corporations preferential treatment with respect to government contract bidding,
most of the smaller corporations didn’t have the experience or the
infrastructure of experienced labor and equipment to make the grade. So the
bidding competition was stiff. Some of the government contracts, very lucrative
and long in duration, continued to go to the “white collar” corporations. These
corporations had parlayed the grade, so it was basically an earned contract
based on reputation from past performance. It was basically a disadvantage to
the “new” corporations trying to break into government contracting. It used to
be that one started from the bottom up. But that wasn’t working here. So
somebody, influential with power, decided to change horses in midstream. Now
this had to come from the House. A new law was secretly passed that said Native
Alaskan corporations had unadulterated rights to all government contracts,
without competition, without bidding. Basically, if a government contract was
up for bid, no matter how well the previous recipient performed, if an Alaskan
Native corporation wanted the contract, it was an automatic! It basically threw
competitive bidding out the window! And it came about at a very favorable time.
Like increased security at airports following the 9/11 attacks. Like the law
change came about when somebody in the know knew that the government was about
to piss away all the taxpayers’ inheritances! Now I had the opportunity to get
a job with a corporation that fell under the “no bid” process. It was an
Alaskan Native corporation that was just getting their act together. My job status was classified as “mission
essential”, as it was a critical position out at an Air Force base. “Mission
Essential” means job over family! Now right off the get-go, came a pay decrease
in comparison to the previous contract baron. We “The Workers” were stunned. We
“The People” were informed that even though we were all hired “at will”, well
now there existed an employer to employee contract that was under an old
collective bargaining unit agreement. We had no idea that such an agreement was
in effect. We did not vote on it. We did not rally for a union. See, believe it
or not, the new management decided to honor an old contract that had not
expired because it paid lower wages then the government’s wage base computation
based on the “prevailing wage”. The prevailing wage for power plant workers was
averaging about $35.00 per hour, we ended up with $22.00! We didn’t like what
was going on, we asked questions. Management’s answer? Join the union or else.
Rather strange, as I was under the impression that corporations were against
the unions! It had something to do with a complaint filed with the NLRB, the
National Labor Relations Board. There was a reason for this. According to
government contract law, work on government contracts cannot disadvantage the
workers. So it had to do with wages, the bottom line. See, lower the wages and
enhance the shareholders, pretty simple. On top of that, we had to pay union
dues. Now with a new crew under a contract that was not approved by a single
new-hire, the first thing management did was cut down on the number of workers
required to safely operate the plant. Remember now, this plant provided
electricity to power-up the hospital operating rooms and the run-way lights,
for returning F-15 pilots on training runs. Now another sour note with the job,
management hired their sons, daughters, brothers and sisters. Very few had any
previous experience in a power plant environment. So right off the bat, the
plant manager forged affidavits that testified that the new employees had the
required qualifications, mandated by the Air Force Civil Engineering Squadron.
This was in efforts to get all the operators licensed as required by the
Department of Defense contract. Now even though the experience constraints were
forged, it didn’t mean these clowns could pass the state boiler operators test.
So the management hired a guy who used to be a mechanical inspector. Now I
already had my license, but due to liability, I was required to attend the
class. It lasted about a week. But the instructor had never worked around power
boilers, so the class was at the most a “D” rating. We learned more about the
Alaska prison system then about boiler safety valves. We even learned how to
break out of the Seward correctional facility! Now come the end of the week,
everyone was required to be tested. After the test, I went to get a cup of
coffee and found the inspector correcting all the tests, so that everyone would
get a passing grade. I made an off the cuff comment to which he found pleasure
in informing me that he knew the head inspector and correcting the tests was
OK. It wasn’t OK in my book. So, as this new corporation struggled to make the
grade, they did so with one thing in mind. Make money for the shareholders! And
nothing was fixed, as fixing things costs money. The contract was an automatic
giveaway, 4-million dollars a year and the corporation was even reimbursed for
paper clips, along with a 10% handling fee! Now the wages accounted for about
one-half of the contract. So 2-million dollars was ending up in the
shareholders portfolio. This one particular corporation had only 64
shareholders! So why fix anything when nobody cares? This was the attitude. An
attitude that would not have been allowed if a contractor was looking at the future,
with respect to “competitive bidding”. But that was a thing of the past, ethics
down the drain over shareholder demands. In one particular incident, a welded
piece of pipe ruptured. Instead of getting the welder involved, a rubber clamp
was installed. See, the welder had more important things to do, dictated by
management. He was directed to build aluminum gun cases. On government time,
using government equipment and materials – all for private use! No doubt a
crime against the United States. But there was very little accountability. And
even when accountability seemed to rule, it was lukewarm at the most. I amused
myself over the fact that “my” own government was afraid. This was the
military! Pretty sad state of affairs. More like a communistic attitude.
Another case in point. This was a natural gas fired power plant. It was
designed to fire up on diesel fuel oil as an alternative. Natural gas goes to
the customer base first, so this power plant was on the curtailment list. I
knew this because I once worked for the company that supplies natural gas
throughout south central Alaska. All power plants utilize dual fuel
arrangements, just incase. When I worked over at the gas company, every weekend
the other power plants around town would perform a switchover, just to make
sure it worked. But not at the Air Force base. Then one day a leak occurred in
the main gas line feeding the plant. The gas company informed the corporation
that the gas line would be shut down. No way could the plant be fired up on back-up
fuel. It could not be accomplished because the equipment had remained in a
state of disrepair. In the end, the government footed the bill, basically the
taxpayers paid for imported electricity for an entire weekend. And the
contractor received 100% of its contract payout, amounting to millions each
year. No questions asked. The corporation did not reimburse the taxpayer, for
being derelict in the duties to perform the contract to the fullest. You and I
were screwed doubly! See, this is what happens when no accountability is
warranted. With the “no bid” process it doesn’t matter in the beginning - to
get the bid - or during the contract to the end - to perform. And when the
contract comes up for bid for the next term, past performance doesn’t matter.
So it scares away the corporations that know how to perform. It is a disgrace
to capitalism and competition. In a nutshell, if this mentality were used, say
at the Olympics, the whiners would automatically be the winners. Why waste time
competing? But you can’t fault the Native Corporations for taking advantage of
such a lucrative deal. No, they are just standing in-line in efforts to perform
for the shareholders. Of course now, there is no waiting line! It is the abuse
from special self-interest that gets us into such predicaments. We have all
heard of special interest and have come to live with such a bother. But when
special self-interest interferes with ethics and accountability, we have crooks
at the helm. What I am talking about are those individuals in power that seek
an interest unto themselves. They gave the country away to special interest and
found out that special interest didn’t give a rat’s ass about them. In essence,
it was like asking the Mafia for help. Sure, but paybacks remain forever! So
they have advanced beyond the special interest to the special self-interest. We
all realize the situation on the “hill”, with corruption and greed. But when
that corruption is intended to trick the Native Americans once again, it is a
crime past an atrocity. In the end, the “no-bid” policy put forth will bring
doom to the American Natives. It is poison! Maybe it is time to bring back the
guillotine! For the Alaskan senators and congressman that orchestrated such
dealings to undermine true grit Americanism, that of competitive bidding, you
are a crook’s crook. Maybe we need a “Hall of Shame” museum erected in horror
of the current administration, instead of a Presidential Library. So you may
ask why something hasn’t been done about this abuse. All in all, everybody was
afraid to make waves over this contract BS, even the Air Force brass. Why? Just
ask Ted. So now the Alaskan Native corporations are under the heat, for not
performing. And they will end up getting a bad name. It wasn’t their fault,
they were just being prudent to do what they thought was right. But without the
experience, without the infrastructure, it meant failure and such cannot go
without ridicule. Chalk another boondoggle up for Ted and his cronies, as he
continues to take this country down a new highway, a treacherous road. Ted,
maybe your vehicle should be at the head of the pack, just to scout out the
road ahead. Scouts don’t always return, maybe that would be a blessing on us
all. But a true “scout” must be brave. And maybe you have more important things
to do, like planning your next heist! Who’ll be the next in line?
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It used to be a one grocery
store town. It used to be a True-Value hardware store town. Fast food meant
mama burgers at the local A&W. Times have changed. Anchorage, Alaska’s big
city, now sports all the amenities of lower 48 cities. Super-sized everything.
I shop the local Fred Myers. I also shop at the Carr’s market, the original
grocery store once without competition. The price of groceries is considerably
higher at the Carr’s joint. A higher price supports the grocery store workers’
union, which brings better wages. I support union affiliation. Without unions,
minimum wage would prevail. And this establishment - which has catered to the
city of Anchorage for some 50 years or more - it maintains a program to employ
the disadvantaged, those with handicaps. I don’t shop at the local Wall-Mart.
Some think the greeters are handicapped. I believe they are just disgruntled
retirees put back to work because their once somewhat lucrative pension was
stolen away by corporate board members, to support CEO wives’ substance abuse
problems. Substance means anything material! So these poor Americans must
provide substitute income through such job opportunities. It doesn’t sound like
a bad job! Let’s face it. The White House has a doorman greeter, usually a
decorated Marine. Camillaham Palace? Some greeter with no teeth and a wicked
hairdo! Yohee, Hoyoho – remember Dorothy? I also shop the local “fashion”
market, as this store has all the yuppie type things of interest. Imported
meats and cheeses. Desserts fit for the “Food” channel. Specialties, like squid
ink infused pasta. Don’t be alarmed at the color of the toilet bowl water the
following morning! Fresh seafood and the best peaches money can buy. Good
peaches are hard to come by in Alaska. Sometimes the imported peaches taste
like a Valley potato! The other day, I was at the yuppie store. But the store
had run out of charcoal. Fresh Copper River salmon had come to market, so the
neighborhood grills were stoked up. This is the primmest of the salmon species.
I needed charcoal because my taste buds wanted grilled food. The weather called
for outdoors activity, it was almost summertime. It was the end of May. I
ventured to the local Carr’s market, one that was located in an area that was
targeted as a hangout for prostitutes and drug dealers. I don’t stop in this
part of town all that much. Usually it is just a drive by. Dam, it was a
dangerous looking parking lot. But I figured it couldn’t be all that bad as
there was daylight and most of the clientele seemed to be Native Alaskans.
Maybe this part of town just had a bad name due the ethnic population.
Prejudice is alive and well in Alaska, especially between the “great white
hunter” population and the native population. A majority of the natives rely on
a subsistence life style. The prejudice - not your textbook kind - stems not
from economic behavior but from arguments over who should have priority over
hunting rights. Subsistence rights versus the right of sport. Anyway, this
store had what I needed. I picked up a bag of coals and a can of dog food. When
I made it safely back to my car, I checked the receipt. I wasn’t reviewing the
receipt for accuracy, I just needed the current time. Receipts nowadays come
with a date and time stamp. In fact, the receipt had all kinds of information -
name, rank and serial number! Why do they call it the Social “Security” number?
Doesn’t seem to be all that secure nowadays! Just heard the news that some big
name Wall Street bank sold S.S.N. information to a credit debt collection
conglomerate, for ten dollars a pop. Isn’t there a law against this? I needed
the receipt’s time because the clock in my car was on tilt. Actually, I haven’t
figured out how to change this modern day hi-tech timepiece since daylight
savings time arrived once again. I tried to re-adjust the clock but failed.
It’s like 3:00 in the morning according to the display. I noticed something
strange printed on the receipt. The purchased items were broken down into two
distinct lists, “grocery” and “non-edible”. I had never seen this distinction
before, not at the Carr’s market located in close proximity to where I lived.
Not at the Fred’s that I frequented either. Now this part of town is where the
low income people shop. So food-stamps are common, that is the reason behind the
segregated receipts. So the charcoal was listed under the “non-grocery” list
and the dog food under the “grocery” heading. Rather odd. One would think that
both items are “non-grocery” items. When I arrived home, the segregation
concerned me. I called the local health and human something office and was told
that the can of dog food was not considered “non-grocery” because, well people
eat dog food! So I performed a test. I found a can of brand name chili in the
cupboard. The ingredients of both cans were very close in character. A
comparison of the main ingredients and benefits of such were rather
interesting. In reality, the dog food was nutritionally better then the chili.
More protein and more fiber! And the dog stuff didn’t have or list a bunch of
scary sounding things like “propylene glycol”. Isn’t that the stuff that will
blind you? The dog food included ash. But ash can’t be all that bad. For months
a few years back, this part of Alaska was bombarded with ash from disgruntled
volcanoes that blew a mass of gray and black soot all over the place. One
couldn’t help consume it as part of the Daily Recommended Requirements. And
isn’t ash a by-product of charcoal grilling? Anyway, the dog food cost $0.79
cents. The chili, almost $2.00 dollars. There was a note on the dog food can,
something about a test under the auspices of the AAFCO. It stands for the
Association of American Feed Control Officials! Sounds more like a union name.
But the dog food was fully tested under what is called the “ Nutrient Profile”
and consistent for varying “life stages” of growth. In fact, according to the
internet site that the AAFCO maintains, a minimum 26-week test is required
before a product can carry the “Feed Control” stamp of approval. I don’t know
who tested the chili, except the label mentioned something about % Daily
Values. It also mentioned something about a family secret recipe. So maybe
testing was not allowed. The dog food can listed a toll free number. The chili
can, only a P.O. Box number. I am sure somewhere along the line sometime in
time this same comparison test was preformed by professionals. Maybe somebody
used it for a thesis, it has to be PHD material. My testing results didn’t
really prove all that much, except maybe in America, some dogs may eat better
then the citizens, those on poverty row. And what used to be a loners lonesome
paradise, skid row now includes entire families. Then again, this canned stuff
with labels depicting a dog with what looked like a happy smile, maybe it is OK
for humans. Remember, it is listed under “grocery” and not under “non-edibles”.
It looked good, it smelled better then the smorgasbord at the Rectal Fork. So
maybe if it is rendered for dogs to consume, it is human waste. For the
unfortunate and hungry, it becomes humane waste. Nowadays, nothing is wasted.
When I was a young juvenile growing up on the East Coast, I remember the
rendering plants. Seems as if these prison style buildings surrounded by
barbed-wire fences invaded many neighborhoods. Who knows what went on in such facilities?
I had a friend, his dad worked at one of the local plants. The guy always had
these big blisters on his forehead. The only other thing I can remember about
the rendering plants was the fact that these plants were usually situated in
the middle of the neighborhood and the stacks belched out an ungodly and
reeking yellow tainted odor. It was right next to the corn and potato chip
plant. Every time I see a bag of the famous time tested corn chips, I have
flashbacks. The chips smell just like the rendering plants discharge! Maybe
that was the main function of the rendering plants, lard for the deep fryers.
Feed control I guess. Anyway, did you ever see the tab to feed the president’s
dog? That’s probably confidential information. It can’t be rendered!
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It is once again tourist
season in Alaska. Each year come spring - which begins in May - residents of
Anchorage rekindle a dreaded relationship with two things, mosquitoes and
tourists. It is really like a love and hate relationship with the tourist. We
like their money. We enjoy their company. And everybody has a story to tell
about our friendly and sometimes unfriendly visiting population. The other day,
I had the opportunity to find myself in a situation that formulated my very own
“tourista” story. I was riding my bicycle home from work. As I meandered my way
through the streets and sidewalks of downtown Anchorage - which is the Mecca
hangout for those yearning to begin their once in a lifetime adventurous
attempt to explore the “Last Frontier” state - two gentlemen decided to engage
conversation. Actually, they were far from the status of “gentlemen”. And
conversation? It was more like drooling banjoes! I think it was the snuff that
annihilated free speech and caused what sounded like impaired speech. Sort of
like how George Bush sounds when he gets nervous in front of real people crowds
and not his typical “stage” audience! One guy was named Buford. He called the
other guy “Ugly”. They were brothers. These guys were walking amongst the
droves of tourists, but I am sure they were not here to enjoy the scenery or
the wilderness. They didn’t fit the Modulus Operand, or whatever it is called
in Latin. Actually they seemed to be lost. How anyone can walk around with such
pointed knee high boots is beyond my comfort level. And don’t even think of
hiking! Buford had a belt buckle that was huge and looked heavy, like the kind
used as a weapon on the Weird World of Wrestling. Now Alaska gets visitors from
all over the world. So first recognition of origin comes about through the
prevailing accent. Alaskans have a boorish accent. This comes about from the
fact that most of us up here are transplants from the lower 48 states. So
accents get weakened, new ones learned and pre-mixed to produce a strange one
at that. Having a unique accent different then our own Alaskan accent makes it
somewhat easy to pinpoint from where a tourist should be going home to! New
Yorkers are easy to recognize. So true are visitors from the southern states.
It is even easier to pinpoint those from foreign countries, like Germany and
France. Anyway, as I slowed my bike in efforts to obey a traffic light, Buford
and “Ugly” happened to be situated beside me like crossing guards. Now I may
look odd when riding a bike, as I had a flashing light armband, a creepy orange
reflector vest and an old fashion bike helmet. And I was using my daughter’s
bike, one without the manhood buster! I wear such attire for two reasons.
First, I work at a military installation up on the Government Hill part of
town. A light, helmet and reflective vest are required by anybody riding a bike
on the base. Secondly, with cell phone use rampart amongst the younger
generation and with their parent’s approval allowing them to terrorize the
streets in SUV’s the size of Bradley fighting machines, the chance of a
collision is highly likely. A lawyer - another guy who rides his bike to work
each day with attire that makes one look like a creature from outer space - he
eagerly informed me that the more safety stuff you have on, the more the
insurance companies are likely to pay out should an accident occur. Has something
to do with what the legalese call contributory negligence. He told me a $10.00
dollar flashing light will fetch an extra $10,000.00 dollars in the event of an
accident. Anyway, these guys started right off, making comments in efforts to
get me aroused. I assumed that they had been drinking. And they were probably
up here in Alaska looking to make it rich. Word was out that a natural gas
pipeline was going to be built. I gathered that these two guys were from Texas.
Buford was a little runt. Ugly, a gorilla! One was the brain the other the
brawny. I didn’t feel threatened, even though Buford was instigating my temper,
especially making comments about real Alaskan men don’t ride bikes. These guys
were definitely from Texas. There used to be a bumper sticker that was pretty
common around Alaska. “Happiness is a Texan going home with a Cajun under each
arm”, sentiment from the pipeline construction days of the 70’s. Thought of a
gas pipeline brings back memories of what may be in store for Alaska. I can put
up with prostitutes making a living off of guys making big fat construction
paychecks, but Texans? Cajuns? Now it seems the fact that a grown man was
riding a bike, it just didn’t muster a vision of what they would have expected
up here. Maybe driving in a Hummer or riding topside on a horse was what they
had expected. I informed these two guys that I had worked on the pipeline for
some 20 years and was now employed at a military base. Then “Ugly” made mention
that maybe I was one of those “special force” guys that can break a neck in a
flash. He told Buford to shut-up. Damn, “Ugly” could talk. Now I work at a
power plant on the base. Twelve hours a day up and down five flights of stairs
in temperatures averaging about 100 degrees keeps one pretty fit. Besides, I
had been biking an average of 25-miles a day, so I was pretty fit and in
tip-top shape for my age, which was pushing the golden years. With “Ugly”
speaking up, especially the beware signal to his brother, it seemed as thou the
conversation had entered friendly grounds. With the sidewalks crowded, it meant
walking the bike a short distance, along side the Texans. I asked Buford if he
had heard of a guy named Lance, knowing that this super-pro athletic biker was
from Texas. The response back was something to the effect that “Lance” was a
name reserved for a queer! Then I went on to inform these two idiots that Lance
was the guy who has won more Tour de France races then anybody. They both
started laughing. Buford made mention that the French - thinking Lance was from
France - were a bunch of wimps, mad because we wanted to change French fries to
American fries! These guys were dumber then dumb. Maybe they could stick pipe
together, but they didn’t have a clew. I asked them if they were aware that
George rode a mountain bike. They both laughed, saying something to the effect
that presidents don’t ride bikes. A tourist that was walking just in front of
us turned around and acknowledged that fact. By this time, both of these guys
were furious. Then Buford made mention that he was going to call Tom Delray and
ask him about the president riding a bike. I also mentioned to them that Laura
was a librarian. Buford said he thought that kind of job was reserved for
lesbians! Damn, I was engaged in conversation with two guys with a combined IQ
that went negative! Now I wouldn’t expect everybody nowadays to be in tune to
world politics and current affairs, but everybody should know who Lance is. And
everybody knows about George’s mishaps when out on his bicycle jaunts. Maybe
some places don’t have newspapers. In the end, they asked me if I knew a good
place to get drunk. We had made it through the town square. I thought of a
place that would suit these guys well. I pointed to a place across the street.
I knew it was the “gay” bar. I told them it was the best place in town to
party, especially for Texans. I told them that it is the place that George and
Tom frequent when they stop in Anchorage. Buford went confused that the
president himself had flown all the way up here. Little did these guys realize
that the base I work at is a stop-over for many dignitaries traveling around
the world. It was not unusual to see Air Force #1 arrive unannounced on the
secure runway. Even the news media had no idea what was going on at the base. I
felt sorry for these guys. They were definitely lost when it comes to reality.
They shook my hand like we had become best of friends, then ran across the
street. “Ugly” almost got nailed, as if he had no notion about traffic and the
fact that getting hit head on by an SUV might hurt! Maybe I should have given
them my safety gear. I pedaled away at a high speed. Who knows what happened
inside the club! I hope they had a good time, on me, on Alaskans! These guys
knew nothing about history, nothing about current affairs, nothing about
nothing. Hey, they were from Texas. Isn’t that where the concept of “No Child
Left Behind” originated from? Isn’t that the place where George grew up and
when he won the governor’s seat after failing at everything else failed the
educational system? And isn’t Texas the place were Laura was a librarian? Good
God help us. But maybe the Buford and the “Ugly” type is what our nation is
coming to. Clueless in America!
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Anchorage is running out of
room, to build upon. Soon it will be all tar and no feathers. Once the green
belt disappears, so does the wildlife - like the geese, cranes, herons, eagles,
owls, hawks, magpies, chickadees and maybe the ravens. Since we live in a
climate that maintains a white landscape for at least six months out of the
year, we cherish the arrival of the green stuff. From lawns to budding birch
and willow trees. But as groomed lawns make headway along with the building
boom, wild trees become a victim to the chaos of our out of control growth
culture. There remains a few places around this town that continues to provide
a peace of mind with respect to keeping things natural. Take the University of
Alaska campus. It is well groomed. It is a place that tourist like to visit. It
is a place our legislators are proud of - their money laundering runs the place.
The guy in charge of this state sponsored facility spends an awful lot of money
to operate and build all kinds of new modern structures. Things that really
benefit the education agenda. Parking garages take up valuable real estate but
provide no classrooms! It looks good from the outside. As far as the inside,
well the numbers tell the true story. More and more of our children go outside
for continuing education. Why? The experts call it placement. It means getting
a job upon graduation. Placement is a top priority when it comes to choosing a
college. In Alaska, jobs are hard to come by. Alaska is a welfare state. If it
is a construction job one is after, this is the place to be. But it is only a
seasonal occupation, which means no benefits. Can’t raise a family on part time
employment. And un-employment insurance doesn’t pay the bills. It costs a lot
to maintain residency in the 49th state. So kids go outside for
school. They find a job outside. They stay outside. There are many different
factions to blame for such an unfortunate disconnect between our children and
the land they call their birthplace. It is a great place to grow up but not a
place with a future. Just the other day I noticed more of the building spree
atrocity. Now like mentioned before, building increases the tax base but
decreases the greenbelt. What was once a large wooded area next to the
university property has now found a home for a new sign advertising another
“build to suit” temptation. And once hidden away in close proximity to this
property is the McLaughlin Youth Center. All of the property around the
university is state land, so anything under jurisdiction of the state finds a
home on land already in the eminent domain. This youth center is nothing short
of a maximum security jail. The trees surrounding the center hid the true
identity of what was behind the bars of youth incarceration. Most people have
no idea that this facility was right on the campus proper. It was well
concealed as the entrance made it look more like a medical entrance. It is a
hard-core facility. Kids that make this their home are most likely bound for a
life of crime. Like the local college, there is no placement after release. For
now though, the trees no longer camouflage the ten-foot high double barbed-wire
fences. Maybe now people will get the hint of a problem. But it looks ugly!
Once all the trees disappear and new businesses make home sweet home in close
proximity to the youth jail, the complaints will take a toll. Yes indeed, it
will be time to waste more money. There will come legislation to re-locate the
facility. It is that out of sight out of mind mentality. So maybe for a short
duration, people may get a sense of reality that we have a problem in this
country. A jail in our midst! Youths in prison! Go ahead, judge this book by
its cover, but don’t burn it!
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I never realized the
difference between ladies’ jeans and men’s jeans. I grew up in a family made up
of a dad, a mom and three boys. So lady “things” were an unknown. Recently my
wife handed over a pair of black jeans that had faded a little. She stays in
style. I really don’t care what I wear. I work in a power plant, so my attire
consists of one suit – the same one I wore at my wedding some 25 years ago –
and various out of style out of date clothing. Oh and a few Carhart items. Now
normally the out of style clothes would make there way into a big trash bag and
readied for a trip to one of the various goodwill depositories. People need
clothing. I have been fortunate enough to not once have to worry about
clothing. Used clothing was for the less fortunate. But a trip to Morocco
changed my knowledge of the clothing recycle business. Yes business! Little did
I realize that many of the used clothing items collected out of “good will” are
put out of reach to an American family in need of such. There is a “black”
market business that confiscates what should be locally distributed and
illegally ships the goods to third world nations. Now I have no qualms about
putting used clothing to work for all humankind. But donation giving is no
longer based on goodwill. Religious groups operating in America, many that are
exempt from taxation and can get away with murder, have undermined the goodwill
nature of giving in efforts to turn a profit. Money allows furthering the
religious group’s selfish agenda. You’re probably wondering about the murder
thing? Well a preacher in Alaska was found not guilty of murder when two young
drug addicts attempted to break into the church. One kid was shot in the back.
In the back, like the convict was trying to escape! The preacher claimed
self-defense! Now the information of how American religious groups continue to
break the law came from a very reliable source. My son was on a research
project in a third world nation. It was under auspices of the U.S. State
Department. That is the same department that manages all of the embassies.
Anyway, clothing “thrift” joints that take your used clothing prefer to pack it
up and send it overseas, where street venders make a killing. All in all, a
profitable market has come to life. So you think your used clothing stays here
in America, not necessarily. Getting back to the pants that started this
fascination with “hand me down hand around” clothing. The pants fit, no
complaints. So I decided to keep them. But I soon found out that women’s pants
are not meant for guys. It had nothing to do with the leg cut. My wife and I
are pretty fit so it had nothing to do with body opposites. Except for one
thing. I noticed that the pockets in the women’s jeans don’t go as deep as with
men’s pants! And shallow pockets are a no-no in the men’s world. I mean, we
need the scratch pad. It was annoying. I mentioned this to my wife and she said
good, as it seems guys itching their you know what in public is no longer a
private affair. I never noticed it, but it seems the woman do, they think it’s
gross. Hey, it’s all in the pockets, deep pockets!
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Webster defined Alienation as
(1) an alienating or being alienated, (2) insanity. I don’t believe this
definition has changed over time. The last new edition on my bookshelf dates
back to 1964. I promised that I would never buy another dictionary. It has to
do with the beginning pages of this most valued of reference books. It is where
portraits of our presidents are offered up for curiosity and debate, more often
ridicule. As far as I am concerned, after Kennedy, there hasn’t been a
president that meets the demands of this great country. I am talking liberty
and justice for all. Let’s see! Johnson, didn’t he lie about the Bay of Pigs.
Nixon, didn’t he get impeached. Ford, didn’t he pardon Nixon. Carter, he was a
good carpenter. Reagan, he gave us Regan-comics and tore down many walls, even
union walls. Bush, what a joke! Clinton, he lied about what happened under the
desk. Bush’s son, what a bigger jokester, especially when it came to weapons of
mass destruction. Back to Webster. Why wasn’t he president? Why isn’t his
portrait in the dictionary? What does he look like? Anyway, in this one
particular situation that caught my undivided attention, the second definition
- that of insanity - it made sense the nonsense! I had just finished a
wonderful diner at one of Anchorage’s landmark eateries. When we first moved
over to the big city from lonely little Valdez - the Switzerland of Alaska -
Simon’s was the in place to satisfy the palate. Over the years thou,
competition remains brutal and the number of good places to indulge oneself in
a gourmet food experience has increased to confusion. Anyway, with the Memorial
Day weekend upon us, we decided it was time to pay downtown a visit. With that
in mind, it meant diner reservations at a place that serves salmon so fresh one
would think it was caught while the perfectly aged Napa Valley wine was being
served - by genuine professional waiters that deserve a minimum 20% tip. Now
when we departed this long established place of food and spirits, as I made my
way out the front door to the main street, something odd caught my attention
and upset the ballast. It was instant anger. The wine helped with the modified
behavior! On top of another landmark establishment, three flags waved in the
wind. The broad stripes and bright stars of Old Glory was testament to freedom.
The second flag in line was that of the great state of Alaska, gold stars on a
field of blue - signifying strength. But what the hell was with the British
flag? Now traveling through Canada one gets used to seeing both the Canadian
“maple leaf” flag and the Queens’ “matrix” flag. Canadians are still somehow or
another unfortunately connected to the fish and chip nation. I have traveled
through Alaska’s neighboring country many times. They like their independence.
The fact that the British flag teams up with the Canadian flag can be accepted.
That is these two countries business. But what privilege does this foreign flag
have flying on American soil? Well in Alaska, it is a very easy answer. It has
to do with power. Probably the sadist day for this state - mind me the nation -
was the dismantling of an icon. That icon was the registered insignia of SOHIO,
the Standard Oil Company. This once mighty giant was known from the east coast
to the west coast for its blue and white flag that welcomed customers seeking
motor gasoline. It was SOHIO who made Alaska great and started the ball rolling
with an intense interest to explore and exploit the “black” gold. In Prudhoe
Bay, at the main base operations camp of the largest oil field in North
America, one can still see the outline of the forgone icon on the weathered
shingles. A British Petroleum insignia tries to provide cover-up. That will
never happen, it is an age thing. The second saddest day - again for state and
nation - occurred when the high rising cranes showed up in downtown Anchorage to
arrest another oil giant’s dominance, ARCO, the Atlantic Richfield Company.
Seeing that once great American company’s sign being removed caused a tearful
eye for many. Bottom-line, as great giants of the industry disappear, the
British continue to grow and dominate. It is suspicious! This foreign outfit
doesn’t have to follow every rule and regulation that an American company would
have to when doing business, especially when it comes to anti-trust. This
foreign outfit now owns a majority stake in the Trans-Alaskan oil pipeline, so
they control it. They own a majority interest in the North Slope oil field
leases, so they control that also. Control of the oil means control of our
legislators, as oil revenues pay for the operation of corrupt government. They control
the state statutes, so they own the arts for the humanities. In Alaska, they
are basically a sole source special interest without competition. So they feel
they have the right for their flag to wave along side ours. What was even more
discouraging and disgusting was the fact that the British flag continued to
wave in the breeze on Memorial Day. Just a few blocks away, the sound of
motorcycle engines was testament to the yearly MIA/Rolling Thunder road run.
Other festivities indicated that the Memorial Day celebration on the downtown
greenbelt had begun, all in the shadow of one flag that is a disgrace to this
country, especially on this very special day of remembrance. This was a slap in
the face. So Paul, it is not that the “British are coming”, the “British are
here”! But why get down on our coalition partner. Yes the Brit’s have about
8000 troops engaged in King George Paul Wolforitz’s theater of war. They rank
number two in strength with regards to the coalition. Currently, the U.S. has
over 138000 of our young sons and daughters involved in this war. What a deal!
My math places the Brits at about 6% with the buddy system. Now when it comes
to British expatriates working the oil fields in Alaska, well BP’s own
employees swells the ranks well beyond what the military coalition experiences.
So the oil coalition is alive and well. I bet Tony likes the odds. One makes
money the other widows. It takes away jobs from Americans. And here is
something you probably didn’t realize. I work at a military facility just
outside of Anchorage. One day as I arrived at the security check-point, I was
ID’d by a young lad that had a British accent. Well he informed me that he was
part of the coalition. You see, Blair doesn’t want his kids placed in harms
way. So the British troops are being deployed to America. They replace
able-bodied Americans who are shipped off to the ugly war torn trenches and
ghetto neighborhoods, in Afghanistan and Iraq. The Brits get to stay here, all
part of the numbers game. It looks good on paper and allows King George Dick
Cheney to toot his horn that we have help in the war against terrorism, but the
casualties will be ours to count. We will always have Memorial Day to remember
those that really didn’t have a choice to die. In the meantime, un-American
interests erode away at our freedoms. It is another form of terrorism. My
dictionary would have the BP flag as a definition for this menace that now
controls our everyday lives. Hey what about that Minute Man militia? Don’t
these scoundrels realize what the statue of Liberty represents? But don’t put
away your weapons just yet my fellow Americans! Even though I have taken issue
of contempt against this group’s unabated insistence to take over control of
the porous borders down south, maybe this group should mobilize their efforts
along the U.S. border between Alaska and Canada, to keep the Brits out. They
must be sneaking over from their coalition country, namely Canada. If you
realized just how much money BP has taken back to the Queen, you would be
bombarding your representative with questions to why and how it is allowed. You
would stop buying gas from the Queen. You would practice Americanism through
boycotting. I have already begun. Now it is time to tear down that flag! And
one more thing about trespassing flags. If any flag besides a state flag, it
would have to be a French flag. During the American Revolution, it was the
French and the U.S. that made up the coalition that won this country its
independence, against the British.
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So George had himself a scare the
other day. It occurred way far away in another country. Seems he spends an
awful amount of inexcusable time away from his duties at the White House. Many
experts call the second term a lame duck session. It is like success means it
is time to kick back. Unfortunately, George didn’t win a first term. And he
started a war. And what about the price of oil? Maybe it is safer for him far
and away. For both George and the country! I wonder who is really at the helm.
The country may be on autopilot, just like the EXXON Valdez. What a sight it
must have been when Captain Hazlewood woke up and noticed the Bligh Reef
“Hazard” beacon out his starboard side porthole. Even the third grade students
in Valdez were well aware of the Bilgh Reef hazards. Now if you thought
presidential security was tight and rigorous in this country, you should see
what happens abroad. I work at a military facility in Alaska that maintains a
very active runway. Besides the normal everyday activities with fighter jets
practicing and troop transport planes loading up soldiers for battle, it is
also a landing strip that allows for take-off and landings of aircraft carrying
dignitaries around the world. Alaska’s strategic location - at the top of the
world - makes it a very convenient stopover, for refueling. And it is a place
earmarked by many politicians in efforts to spend a little time fishing. From
the Air Force base, it is a hop, skip and a jump to the best fishing streams in
the world. I have witnessed all kinds of planes and jets descend upon the
runways. Some display logos in different languages. Now it wasn’t always a safe
place to land, Alaska that is. In the past, this place was constantly on the
alert for roaming Soviet Bear bombers. These monster sized beasts carried
nuclear weapons. They would fly a pattern that skirted the limits, and we would
respond by sending out the fighter jets. It was all a big game. That threat is
no longer. In fact, there are flights from Alaska to Russia, especially where
oil exploration for exploitation is alive and well. Anyway, the scare was
discovered after George gave a speech. Now there comes conflicting reports as
too whether or not the grenade lobbed his way was for real or a dud. So comes
the hypothetical. What if the grenade had gone off and George was a casualty.
Who would be the next in line? That is always an interesting subject,
especially for Alaskans. The constitution outlines successor-ship to the
presidency. First in line would be the Vice President. In this case, Dick
Cheney. Remember the last time we had a dick as a president? There came a
famous saying from that era. “Dick Nixon before he dicks you”! Then if not a
dick, the hot seat would go to the Speaker of the House, Dennis
Hastert-something. I don’t know if this guy is fit for anything accept
befriending the Jack-em-all-off. That’s the guy who is the Al Capone of
lobbyists. Fourth on the list is the ranking senior citizen, I mean senator.
And that is where Alaskan’s could make history. Getting back to Dick. Since
college days, this guy has held aspirations to hold the highest of offices. So
far, it has been a very impressive career, and there exists no “if ands or buts
about it”, the ladder of fortune, fame and power is within his reach. He wanted
to run for the presidency, but a weak heart puts a blemish on his record. No
way in hell would the American people vote on an individual in such a weakened
state of health. Should the president get hurt while out riding his bike down
in Crawford, the people would have no choice. Not until it was election time.
Dick Cheney is all business. He is different then most past VP’s. I hold the
belief that since he is in control, he probably thinks that the head position
is really his to enjoy. He wants so
desperately to be pictured in the dictionary, not as an underling, but as the
President. So I will make a prediction. Before George’s second term is up, we
will see attempts to de-throne him. You very seldom see George and Laura
together. And there seems to be a dangerous disconnect with security. Just the
other day, Laura was rushed away to a secret location following a terrorist
threat. I guess George was not informed. The entire White House and Capital
were evacuated. Nobody told George, not until it was all over with. He
continued to enjoy his bike riding, escorted by an entourage of security
bikers. These guys knew what was going on. And you don’t see Condy hanging
around all that much. Even his close associates have bailed out. Paul Wolforitz
is gone. Colin Powell is into buying baseball teams. So if Dick wants it, he
will get it. Supposedly, the hand grenade wasn’t a dud, just a malfunctioning
trigger. So, it is getting close, to close for comfort. Now Dick’s medical
record scores as many heart attacks as does his draft deferral attempts. He had
one “deferral” that was due to the so-called “hardship” exemption. This was
during the Vietnam War. He said he didn’t have the time! Lets talk about the
draft and exemptions. The first draft occurred during the Civil War. In 1863
Congress enacted the first military draft. And guess what? Yes indeed it came
with loopholes, exemptions that is. There came two ways in which male citizens
could relieve themselves of a very bloody war. One could pay $300.00 for an
exemption. That was a lot of money back then. It meant a ticket to ride for the
wealthy and of course senators. And at the same time that the politicians were
looking for able-bodied fighters, they gave themselves a $300.00 raise! Another
way out of the draft, you could name a substitute. So people in powerful
positions used strong-arm tactics to free prisoners, as substitutes. Also,
slaves became substitutes without any say for themselves. So slaves and
prisoners went free, but had to defend the country. Maybe that is what Dick
will propose if he ever gets to substitute for the “Kingpin”. But I believe
half of the above ridiculousness has already been made policy. So the sons and
daughters of the politicians don’t have to worry about a draft, as Iraq is
considered a place for hostile hostage taking. And since a politician may be a
more likely target, there was a bill passed by our representatives that
“defers” sons and daughters away from any time on the front-line, as it
wouldn’t be fair! Now on the other hand, we do have plenty of prisoners. Why
not? For every year served, a year off the sentencing. And for good behavior,
maybe the right to vote, once again. Now I would have to make a qualified
statement that if the successor-ship clause were put into effect, Dick wouldn’t
last too long. And it looks as though Hasterts may end up in jail. So that
leaves Ted, Alaska’s senior senator. Yes indeed. Temper Tantrum Ted would be
King of the Hill! It is a scary thought that so close to un-comfort is the
presidency. With that in mind, the citizens do mind! George, hang on even if
lame, just for a short time. We promise if you stay around, we will not impeach
you, because the back-up plan is already a failed plan. Wait a minute, Ted
could open up ANWR for oil development so he could open up Puget Sound to more
polluting oil tankers! Ted could open wide the “pork” barrel. In fact, Ted
could open up his son’s skeleton box, a real can of worms - maybe more like
maggots!
CopyRight 2006 ERP/MSK Media Back to SHORT STACK List
John Lennon wrote a beautiful
love song. The title was simple, “Women”. The words were simple, yet
far-reaching with menacing meaning. Bob Dylan, whom most associate as radically
postured with respect towards our country’s “Masters of War”, he also wrote
beautiful love songs about women. One in particular is titled “Belle Isle”.
Another, “Let It Be Me”. One verse is worth quoting: “Each time we meet
love, I find complete love, without you’re true love, what would life be like”.
I don’t know why the pundits scorned this folk singer legend when he decided to
appear in a Victoria’s Secret commercial. We all have secrets. I’m jealous!
Love songs these two guys knew. Simple songs detailing a complex work of art.
Women I am talking about! Of all the things, all the gifts, all the works of
art - like that found in nature – thine “Women” is the Creator’s masterpiece.
The sculpture of the woman is pure excitement, pure ecstasy, pure danger. The
naked body craved. Women, they “shall” be protected. Have we done enough? Or
have we been derelict in our duties to protect and covet the womb from which
human life begins. I am not talking right to life versus women’s rights. I am
talking about a dereliction in our efforts to arrest an atrocity that continues
to exist, today. I am at the age now that turns my attention not to the comic
section of the morning newspaper upon its 5:00 am arrival, but the obituaries.
I came to Alaska back in the 70’s. Like many others, there was a reason for
such a daring move. First was the great outdoors, as this land was still indeed
the “Last Frontier” state. Second on the scorecard? Jobs! In Alaska, it meant
high paying jobs. In fact, it wasn’t only the pipeline contractors that were
doling out wads of cash, it was like a disease all around the state with
respect to the loot. Anything associated with the construction of an 800-mile
long steel pipeline was making money. Many local industries had to pay the
higher salaries in efforts to keep help on board. Even teachers left the
profession, as digging ditches fetched a better pay then educating our kids. I
was in the younger age group upon my arrival north. Many of my co-workers were
age similar. Now working on an 800-mile pipeline for so many years makes many
friends. So scanning the obituaries and seeing an old pipeline buddy resting in
peace, it brings back fond memories. That saying that everybody has a story to
tell was so true with the building and operation of the steel beast! Take Zeke
for instance. He was a Cajon rough-neck. He was dumb, so admitted. But when it
came to welding and wrenching, this guy was an ace. Down on Westchester Lagoon,
there is a poem. It is called, “The Dumb Iron Worker”. It reminds me of many of
my departed friends. But something else that grabs my attention in the obituary
section is the high rate of women that find life shortened by breast cancer.
When I was a young kid, my mom wrestled with this atrocity. Back then it meant
removal of a breast. Not a sacrifice, but a sacrilege! I thought that with some
40 years the aftermath, medicine would have made advances against this evil
villain. Lets face it. There is lung cancer. Most of the time it is caused from
excessive tobacco use. We have strokes and heart attacks. Mostly due to a poor
diet and a laidback lifestyle. Where does breast cancer find its origin? If I
had one wish, I would wish that every Congressional representatives’ mom or
wife be stricken with breast cancer! For the likes of Hilary, same thing. Now
you may think that such mad thinking is nothing more then an instigation of
“evil”. So let me explain myself. This country has the brains to build hi-tech
jet fighters and monstrous battleships. We can place a crew on the moon. How
long ago was that technology proved? We don’t have the courage to spend the
time, money and resources were it belongs. Our representatives, especially the
Alaskan delegation, spend money if and only if it can be of a return benefit
for their own selfish agendas. Believe me, if my wish came true, the money
wasted to place democracy where democracy can’t thrive would be funneled where
it belongs. So call it a wish for a breast cancer pandemic, but believe me,
instead of a ship named after a still living president, maybe it would mean not
so many of the Creator’s “Women” so early to the grave. We have the know how,
we just don’t have the courage! We have let down the Creator’s greatest of
gifts, we indeed had a choice.
CopyRight 2006
ERP/MSK Media Back
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The cartoon - Fox’s Hannity
& Colmes - was disrupted for “Late Breaking News”. The L.A. Rambo’s were in
pursuit of a vehicle. The guy sought after was a disgruntled boyfriend that had
hijacked a young woman’s vehicle as police were closing in on a domestic
violence complaint. This guy had a 1-cent history. What I mean, he was a nobody
and soon boredom took over the “Breaking” news and it became just a normal day
in L.A. Lets face it, it was just another domestic violence report for the
record. I had no idea what this domestic violence stuff was all about. It
wasn’t invented until the 80’s. And where I grew up, there was a retired Navy
guy named Chet. If you messed with a female, you found Chet’s fists, one meant
a “black” eye, the other meant “blue” you know what! I was once involved in a
DV case, as a Good Samaritan. I was working the pipeline out of Fairbanks. One
Sunday morning, my crew was heading down to Pump Station 8. As we approached a
bend in the freeway, we noticed some guy wailing down on this lady. As we
approached closer to the brawl, she managed to get up and run across the
highway. Quick thinking allowed me to blast the truck across the median and
then high tail it towards the lady, who was now hoping to catch a quick ride.
My partner opened the passenger door and even before coming to a stop, the lady
was saved. She was dressed like a hooker. She was crying and bleeding, from
swollen lips. We decided to take her to the hospital in Fairbanks, about a
15-minute drive. There was very little conversation, as what do you say to
someone that just had the crap beat out of her on the Lord’s day? Anyway, a few
minutes into the rescue my partner notices we were being pursued, by the irate
“BOYFRIEND”! We knew we were in too deep when the girl told us he had a gun.
Now he was gaining on us, as the pipeline truck was not a fast truck, just a
tough truck. So as the “mad-ass” - that’s what she called him - closed in, it
was time to take evasive maneuvers. We tried calling ahead to the pipeline
security, but they didn’t have anybody at the Fairbanks post that could lend us
assistance. The State Police were called. But we didn’t have time on our side
to wait for an escort. Bullets travel fast in the clean Alaskan air! So my
partner climbed on top of the truck and started to deliver sticks of electrical
conduit, as road blockers. It was great, as the guy had a hard time dodging the
pipe and one piece finally collapsed the windshield. He was sidelined, a job
well done! We thought. She then went mad on us, concerned that we had hurt her
boyfriend. Now she starts wailing on me. I’m trying to drive. Lucky for us, the
military base gate was a good place to take this DV thing. We were told never
to get involved in a DV case again. Evidently, even though the guy beat the
crap out of her, she went home with him! Anyway, with this “Breaking News”
detail, it did bring back memories. Best left for the professionals to handle.
Now the news people will always find something to keep themselves entertained.
Soon, it was a live detailed account of what was transpiring along the L.A.
Freeway. It was like listening to an Indy 500 race announcer’s play-by-play
action. Reporter #1: “So now he’s heading south on the Ventura Highway”.
Reporter #2: “Looks like that was a bad move, as this time of day the traffic
gets bottlenecked”. Back to Reporter #1: “He would have had a better chance if
he went north”(pause) “If he gets off at 12th Street and Vine,
he...” See, the reporters were flying in a helicopter that was equipped with
hi-tech cameras, so they could see off into the distance. Low and behold! Now
it looked as if this guy was tuned into the radio station giving advice against
the cops! Soon the criminal veers off the highway, as instructed by Mr. Smart
Reporter. Maybe these guys were betting on this race! But the intersection was
a call on the guy’s bluff, and soon at least three squad cars had strategically
placed bumpers in efforts to coral the crook’s stolen car. Now one news
reporter suggests that if the crook just turned towards the right, he could
probably once again maneuver his way to freedom, as the police car wasn’t
really situated in a pinning position. This was easily seen from above, but
obscured from the ground crew, the cops! Sure enough the crook followed the
advice of the local Channel #3, and the pursuit was on once again. Now, whose
side are these guys on? Isn’t this contempt? Isn’t this aiding and abetting a
criminal? I guess not, as we are all innocent until proven guilty. So the news
media finds new ways to entertain the public. I guess it keeps the ratings up!
Well come to find out, the media has better equipment then do the police. So
the police even listen in to what is happening above from the vantage point of
the private choppers. So, I guess it is monkey see, monkey do fair treatment to
both the law abiding and the law unguided. Just think, if the news media
discriminated and only helped the police, I am sure there exists a lawyer out
there that could prove that his client was prejudiced against. I guess that
actually happened following a chase scene on the L.A. Freeway. Sure enough, the
news guys helped the police and some truck drivers to form a funnel to trap a
stolen vehicle. The crook was hurt during the dragnet. I guess entrapment is
against the law, so this crook sued and won a settlement, saying he was ready
to turn himself in but the police and truck drivers interfered with a peaceful
surrender. The crook spent time for the crime, but now is spending the
taxpayers’ dimes, what a fine!
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Catch the latest commercial for
just a “nother” medicine? You know what I am talking about. Those disgusting
commercials that bombard the TV screen every ten minutes, in reality allowing
the 30-minute sitcom only about 2 minutes air-time. Those same commercials that
show off a bunch of happy people, with paid for smiles. New medical
breakthroughs that are supposed to do something for something, except the
commercials don’t relay in any intelligent manner a damn thing about what the
drug is supposed to fix, accept make one broke. Or make Uncle Sam broke through
one of the infinite give-away programs. Assistance programs, some that can even
give foreigners benefits. Programs wherein a most recent audit found over 150
thousand cases of fraud. Isn’t fraud considered an act of terrorism if it is
against the government? Is not fraud punishable by jail time? It must be OK.
Senators give themselves a raise every year. They don’t do anything accept plot
against one another. They make up scary buzzwords like nuclear showdown, or is
it nuclear slowdown? So voting themselves a raise based on excuses of poverty,
that’s fraud. Believe me, our representatives’ jobs are not difficult. Giving
away billions of dollars in grants in efforts to campaign for re-election
cannot be a hard job. Let me have a senator’s job for just one month. That is
all it would take to distribute the taxpayers’ money. And I would offer an
inventive incentive carrot. If a state returned unused money to the treasury,
the residents would receive a tax break, by that same amount. This would allow
the citizens to patrol and police the “pork” frauds. Mark Twain was correct,
they’re all a bunch of crooks. But they have immunity. Do you realize that one
of the best economic victories for the common working-man was the yearly use of
credit card interest write-offs. Our representatives decided to take it away
from us. They have their own credit and financing company, tagged to the U.S.
Treasury Department. They complained to each other as they were not able to
enjoy the write-off, so why should we? See, their credit cards have no upper
limit and no interest, forever! And they don’t pay interest on loans either.
They use taxpayer money in some virtual bank that has no credit checks or limit
checks. In fact, it is questionable if the loans are paid back! There are no
time constraints, no monthly payment plans, no real reason to pay it back. The
only guarantee, if it is not paid back before a term is up, it will be taken
out of the scoundrels’ whopping big retirement benefit plan. Anyway, I saw one
commercial that gained my interest. It was for something called VYTORIN.
Sounded more like a Klingon weapon. Klingon! My word processor couldn’t find
the correct spelling for this nationality, it suggested “Clinton” as a correct
replacement! The commercial was interesting to say the least. Usually I
disregard such waste of time million dollar time clips. What happened to the
Budwiser clips? It was a split screen commercial. On the left, all the good
things this orange pill can do. On the right, smiling faces of diversity. It
continued on and on and on. Now though, with all the bad stuff this drug will
do, the side affects stuff. Bad over good by 100 to 1! Have you noticed how
every corporation and business has that L.L.C. after its name nowadays? It means
Limited Liability Corporation or Company. What it means is easy, it ain’t their
fault if you die or become a Klingon! I have started using it after my own
name, for Limited Liability Citizen! Anyway, the L.L.C. commercial included
allergic reactions like swelling of the face, swelling of the lips, swelling of
the throat and tongue which could result in one biting off tongue in efforts to
breath or swallow, rash, body alterations, nausea, body inflammation. It
mentioned something about telling your doctor if one is taking Warfare. What
the hell kind of drug would have a name like that? Then it continued with yet
more precautions, but with more faces of satisfied users:
On the left: Do not take this drug if you have active liver disease.
On the right: A Polaroid of a guy with a liver disease smile.
On the left: Do not take this drug if you consume more then a gallon
a day of grapefruit juice:
On the right: A Polaroid of a guy smiling like he had to go to the
bathroom.
On the left: Do not take this drug if you consume over 1 gallon a day
of nicotinic acid.
On the right: A Polaroid of a victim with a nicotine fit smile.
On the left: Do not take this drug if pregnant, about to get
pregnant, or breastfeeding.
On the right: A Polaroid of a very elderly lady, with one real big
smile!
Just what the hell was in this
orange pill? Is it orange? Hard to tell. Hard to tell what it is supposed to
do. Hope that little old lady is having fun! And kids watch these commercials.
Could be against the law, pedaling drugs to such a young generation. What else
would be behind such a fake dramatization? Could be made against the law, but I
forgot, we have a nuclear hoedown in the halls of Congress! Disease on the
left, disease on the right!
CopyRight 2006 ERP/MSK Media Back
to SHORT STACK List
I was at the Ted Stevens
International Airport terminal the other day. My wife was checking in for a
flight south, to get away from the mosquitoes. No it’s not the state insect!
It’s more like the state bird. She was flying with a new airline that was
breaking ground in Alaska. Frontier Airlines was a no frills outfit. What was
refreshing with the check in process that we all dread was the noticeable fact
that the normal amount of confusion and chaos most of us have come accustomed
too was non-existent – except for a crying baby. But that didn’t even arouse
people’s anger. There were actually people with friendly smiles, in line and
behind the counter. I thought for a moment that I was thrust back in-time, when
things were rosier. It was a flashback in time! See, being the new kid on the
block, this airline that shares a name Alaskans cherish - it is the “Last
Frontier” state - they were stuck doing business in the “old” section of the
terminal. It was good to be flashed back here. But we eventually had to make
our way to the chaos. You can’t get away from it these days. And that chaos I
would have rather avoided comes about from a mandatory trip into the cave - the
“new” passenger arrival and departure terminal. This never to be completely
finished multi-million dollar eyesore is called the “Big Ted”, in reference for
comparisons sake to Boston’s “Big Dig”. It was built by and in honor of the
“Hulk”. That is what the pundits call Alaska’s senior senator. And the terminal
is adorned inside and out with enough rock architecture that it resembles a
cave. There is a rumor that bats have taken up residency in the lofts. You know,
senior citizen senior senator Ted looks just like a bat when he gets his temper
up! I wonder if he has wings? Maybe fangs! In Alaska, money laundering for
wasteful projects - from us taxpayers - is the pride and joy work from our
representatives some 4000-miles away. When the grant giveaway comes to
fruition, Alaska makes out pretty damn good. This state has received enough
regurgitation from wage levies - that is what taxation is in a nutshell - that
we actually remain in a deficit to the rest of the country! For instance, this
year an individual received money for a blueberry drying facility. Now Alaskan
blueberries are not very good. I have been to Maine. There the thumb sized
berries are the real MaCoy. And year after year there exists an over-surplus from
the “Live Free or Die” state. Or is that New Hampshire’s motto? So harvesting
blueberries in Alaska for medicinal purposes is really on the ridiculous side
of fantasy. Alaskan berries have a weird like texture and flavor. Seriously! It
has something to do with the climate. If you performed one of those blindfold
taste tests, most likely the prevailing guess would be “mold”. And then there
was the time 50-million dollars was spent on a modern hi-tech fish processing
plant that was to revolutionize the industry. Never did process any fish. The
fish quotas had tied up the entire seasonal catch for the next hundred years,
to processors in Seattle. Most of the fish caught in Alaskan waters doesn’t
even touch ground here, it goes south in these “super-size me” freezers. So the
gigantic place was turned into a church! Alaska’s capital gang has clout. It
has one agenda that follows a secret formula. Ted’s take is equal to two times
worthwhile projects plus four times that amount for worthless projects. Hey, we
even received federal money to study the penis size of the male Musk Oxen! You
know, the governor looks like one of these ferocious creatures! Study his? Let
us not go there. Enough about our lenders, I mean our leaders! Back to the bat
cave. It is always interesting to watch the TSA employees at work. If you call
it work. One thing this organization doesn’t have to worry about from the looks
of things is non-compliance as an equal opportunity employer. There are young
guys and old guys. It looks like an ethnic cornucopia. To bad our congressional
caucus wasn’t that colored. I saw one guy that I recognized. From rags to
riches it was. I mean from jeans to the white and blue uniform of the TSA.
Haphazard dress code I guess, as he still had the silver-dollar sized
ear-rings. The kind that dilates the ear lobe big enough to allow a flying
saucer through. It must hurt! Wow, from espresso barista to a homeland boy. It
seems that at times there are more TSA representatives getting paid by the hour
then there are paying passengers. And it is tourist season up here! Anyway, my
wife made it through security. She has this paranoia that she is on the “list”.
Not that she is engaged in any type of terrorist activity, it is because she -
along with millions of other concerned educational professionals - has been
making waves over the “no-child-left-behind” criteria. And if you mess with
this subject you must be a terrorist, just ask Laura! How about this for a
bumper sticker, “TSA has a foot fetish”. Anyway, after departing the “Big Ted”,
I made my way over to the U.S. post office, the one facility kind enough to
remain open no matter what. This is the place that just received another gift
from the Hulk. Yes this facility now has the capability to scan “outgoing” mail
for anthrax. I didn’t think the Hulk received that much hate mail! Why in hell
invest taxpayer money to scan outgoing mail? As usual the line was long. As
usual, the line was going slow. I think the management should put up one of
those signs, like at Disneyland. The signs could inform, “From this point, it
is a 60-minute wait”. One has to prepare oneself for doing business at this
facility. It is at least an hour’s wait, on a good day. If you want to involve
yourself in instant insanity, try mailing something from here during the
holiday season. Bring a tent! It is interesting to watch the clientele. Right
off the bat, prejudice rules. We all think that postal workers are lazy and get
paid big bucks. I respect them. But like the usual, it was dagger like eyes
targeting the postal workers. Gasps of “hurry-up” could be heard amongst the
disgruntled. One guy was foaming at the mouth! Again, the line was slow. Five
attendants were on duty. But three were on “light duty”, so they basically sat
there chit-chatting and manicuring their nails. The other healthy worker was
enjoying his break time. People don’t come here to mail small things. It is
mostly boxes going south or out to the bush. So even with five workers on the
clock, only two were gainfully employed helping customers. Again, you have to
be prepared for this experience. Anyway, the line was at a snail’s crawl. I
laughed as one elderly lady scolded the process, as one of the counter
attendants and a customer amused themselves over baby Polaroids. I noticed the
gentleman behind me in line was a TSA agent. After about a half hour, I started
a conversation. He seemed to not be bothered by the long line and slow progress
to get up to the pony express counter. This agent was on his break. Now with a
ten minute drive from the airport and by now at least a 30-minute wait in line,
and an estimated 30-minutes ahead of him for service, I am sure that the time
it was going to take to mail whatever it was would go way past a normal break
time allowed for hourly employees. So I inquired into this. I feel it was
justified because I am a taxpayer! First he laughed. That was good. It meant he
wasn’t about to go postal over my inquiry. Anyway he informed me that as agents
dealing with a disgruntled traveling population, they are allowed rest breaks
plus “encounter” breaks. Interesting! This “encounter” thing. Rest breaks are
what you and I are used to at the work place – it’s a labor law. A time to get
a coffee. A time to relieve oneself. That 15-minute carefree time. That is what
I get during a four-hour shift, and I work on a union contract. So I asked this
guy what is meant by “encounter” breaks. Here it is from the horse’s mouth. At
the airport there is a TSA supervisor that monitors the security check-out
action by closed circuit TV. If an agent keeps his cool with a disgruntled
traveler, they get points - on a scale of one to ten. Now as points accrue, it
can be used as comp time. So he was using his “encounter” capital. Everybody is
using this new buzzword. Not “encounter” but “capital”. George started it. But
when he first used it, he had to be corrected because he thought it was
capitol. Nobody real understood just what the hell he meant. I guess
“encounter” is also popular with the lunacy presidency, not dignitary
“encounters” but numerous “encounters” with the ground – bicycle mishaps!
Anyway, the TSA guy was cool, calm and collective all the time waiting in-line.
Maybe the “encounter” time was a good thing. Maybe it was like unwind time.
Maybe we all need it – like that kindergarten naptime. But then he went on to
inform me that the traveling public is becoming more and more comfortable with
the security screening and delays, so the “encounter” time seems to be falling
off. Something this guy and his fellow workers weren’t happy with. I guess
during the holidays, it was not unusual to get enough points to take a few days
off. Pretty lucrative deal! As a joke, I suggested to the agent that maybe the
workers should unionize. Then the “encounter” time would be a guaranteed! To
this he said there was much interest and may be happening as we speak. My first
impression? These workers had it made. Maybe I should ask my union boss about
“encounter” time off. You know another thing I get a kick over? Did you ever
see how the postal workers carry a customer’s stuff? I mean we walk in with
three or four boxes at a time. A sweat breaks out from the parking lot to the
end of the long line. But when they handle just one little old box, it’s like
they are on stage. Like they are working really hard. It is rather amusing,
this premeditated put-on. Give me a break! Maybe they should ask their boss for
“encounter” time. I mean “No-counter” time off!
CopyRight 2006 ERP/MSK Media Back to SHORT STACK List
I make the following statement
in efforts to remember the 108 Congress. The caucus that was in power following
the 9/11 attacks on this country. The country was at war. Now right before the
president was to deliver his war budget to congress for approval, our lenders -
I mean our leaders - assembled in earnest to take up the appropriations bills
for approval. Why? Well the war budget was gigantic and it would have
interfered with the “pork” giveaway contest. So they foolhardily signed off on
the pork projects to keep their constituents happy. In the meantime, the war
budget was passed. But what was historical about this war budget was the fact
that the congress didn’t up the ante like was commonplace in the past. The
president can only ask for so much. The congress usually trumps his request.
There is always cost overruns with war, just like happened in this situation.
Of course this time around, no “military pork” could be found. The spigot went
dry. It comes down to that decisive issue. Money spent to get re-elected or
money spend wisely! So we have soldiers over in Iraq with vehicles that don’t
have enough armor plate to protect their 20-year old mentality. It is a crime.
It all has to do with the money game. The representatives also disallowed the
military to up the ante for new recruits and re-up bonuses. Because of the
emptying “pork” barrel, as any increases would have to come from congress and
would hurt their hometown pride. Bottom line, they already spent the money, on
“pork” projects in efforts to keep the welfare states running. We hate senators
for their leadership and love them only for the “pork”. In the meantime still,
young soldiers are dying because of their unselfish valiant efforts to protect
this country. At the same time, it is an atrocity that any senator can sleep
peacefully at night. So to this, I propose the following in efforts to not
forget this country’s 108 Congress. We have over 400 national parks in America.
All these places have smelly stinky restrooms. Each one could bear the name of
a 108’r. Just think, a commode named in honor of the nation’s top degenerates!
On display along with the buffalo. And as an added bonus, they get to clean the
pot during recess time away from the Halls of Congress. They can engage their
families in commode combat if they would like, and teach a lesson in history,
that to undermine our sons & daughters capabilities on the front-line, it
stinks! Take a good whiff! Degenerates, YES! While our sons and daughters died
at war, most of our so-called leadership were to busy under the bed-covers with
Abramoff. They are all guilty. Hey, I get a kick out of all these degenerates
now giving back the campaign loot that originated as stolen money from the Coushatta
Indians. It is still stolen money isn’t it? So shouldn’t that money be going
back to the victims? Isn’t the possession of stolen goods, aiding and abetting?
Where the hell is the Justice Department? I make a prediction that George Bush
will pardon more criminals at the end of his term then the entire cast of past
or future presidents. One thing for Bush, he will be remembered, in comic
books. Mission accomplished, move over Tricky Dick!
Copyright 2006 ERP/MSK Media Back to SHORT STACK List
When you come to visit Alaska,
which is a place on almost everybody’s escape list, you will no doubt have the opportunity
to visit the “big” city. Anchorage, population about 250 thousand, is the “big”
city of the “Last Frontier” state. The true motto should be something more
rugged. Like, “Alaska the Welfare State”. I mean it. If it were not for the
free-for-all handout from Uncle Sam, this place would be rich. Yes, rich! As we
could tax the hell out of the oil thieves and get what is truly ours to begin
with, wealth from the resources. Anyway, Anchorage is situated in a somewhat
beautiful setting. Mountains, inlets to the great Pacific Ocean, more
mountains, and loads of street people. The best way to see the scenery is to
meander along the Tony Knowles Trail. Tony was Anchorage’s mayor and also
served a term as governor. When he was mayor, he built the trail system. Now
this freedom path cuts along the coast. It basically cuts into the selfish
serpentine security once cherished by the rich people, coastal mansion owners.
They despised such trespass. But rich people have a way to get even. Sometimes
they will hire an illegal immigrant up here in Alaska awaiting the commercial
fishing season and command and demand that they break the law or else. How? By
having them cut away trees on city property. Trees that over time have a
tendency to blocking out their living room view of the inlet. It happens every
year. Come the light of morning, trees that were once have disappeared. The
branded culprits just recite the 5th. End of story. Then it
continues down the line, monkey see monkey money do! And there was one guy who
went further then that. He built his own little park, all on city property. It
contained a pond, a rock garden, imported trees and shrubs used as a deterrent
to trespassers, as the park was right on the border of the trail. It was one of
the most used trails of the entire system. It was a real no-no. I don’t know
why the city folks made such a big deal out of it. It did amount to simple land
swindling. The city was concerned that being city property that it had to have
access, for everybody’s enjoyment. We all pay taxes! As far as I was concerned,
there is just too much free land and trails around and about then to worry
about one stingy individual deciding to trump his ace against society. But then
the true fall-out became apparent. I was out walking on the coastal trail
system one day. It was a Monday, about mid-day. The trail system was pretty
vacant. And to my surprise? A gang of city workers taking care of the illegal
park! Yes indeed. I guess an agreement was made between the land swindler and
the Mayor. The swindler is a lawyer. I bet you already guessed on that fact. So
the guy gets to keep the park but has to remove a few obstacles. In turn, the
park is open to the public. But nobody will use it, as it is just nothing
special to waste time over. It is basically this guy’s new backyard. Maybe that
was this guy’s quest? See, now the parks department has to take care of it.
What a deal, I guess it goes beyond eminent domain. It is something only a true
clown would live up too. Lawyers? Clowns? One in the same, big feet to trample
upon society!
CopyRight 2006 ERP/MSK Media Back to SHORT STACK List
I was over at the local
gourmet butcher shop. It was the fresh seafood display that caught my fancy.
Tonight my palate would be satisfied with some fresh halibut. Alaskan’s call it
the “real” chicken of the sea. Now along with the “but”, something to cherish
the moment - like an aged bottle of French wine. Hey, say all you want about
the Francois, just don’t try to discredit that country’s vino making skills. It
must have something to do with the climate, like the effects of non-coalition.
Alaska has a very unique climate. Sure it can be cold! And wet, and snowy. And
sometimes sunny. In fact, it seems the sun is becoming a regular visitor. Many
say it has to do with that global warming thing, a true coalition effect! I
prefer to call it a global “WARNING”. So we have a saying up here, one that is befit
for a bumper sticker, “Global Warming Gets My Vote!” Anyway, as I waited at the
counter to scarf up a hunk of the white flesh running at some $12.00 a pound, a
gentlemen made comment at the price of the fresh fish that littered the ice
chest display. It was a smorgasbord treasure from Davy Jones’ locker. Troll
caught salmon from Knight’s passage down south. King crab that still reeled
with excitement as celebrities of the “Dangerous Catch”, which by now has
become a popular reality TV show. Rock fish, cod, scallops the size of Yukon
Gold potatoes and of course halibut. But what seemed to entertain this
individual’s curiosity was the pricing of this bounty from the sea. Now he
wasn’t really complaining about the high price, but seemed to be miffed about its
reasonableness. What? You can always pick a tourist out of the crowd, or a
Cheechocto. That is what we call the newcomers. As far as the tourists, it was
that season that most Alaskans continue to have a love and hate relationship
with. Really, it seems many Alaskans get calls from people we don’t even know.
Visitors that somehow or another know somebody down the lower 48 way that is
somehow a relative and that long lost relative hands out your phone number. So
we get calls from people looking for a place to stay. It has to do with the
cost of accommodations up here in the height of the tourist season. New York
City prices! Anyway, this guy was questioning from where all the fish comes
from. I informed him that it is caught
right out in the inlet. But he insisted that the price was just too damn low,
for the time being taking on the disposition of “angry tourist”. Now it is
common knowledge that visitors sometimes get disenchanted at the high price of
things up here. But this place is way far away from the economics of the lower
48 states. The gently irate tourist went on to add bits and pieces of
information that started to form a reasonable explanation as to why he was
questioning the prices. He was a tourist, that I already figured out. He had
planned for the big Alaskan adventure for some ten years. He said he was on a
fixed income, a pittance of a retirement from working as a janitor for some
school department in Jersey. So he finally made the commitment. Included in his
first and only Alaskan adventure to the “Last Frontier” state was of course the
opportunity to go fishing for the halibut. He envisioned catching one of those
300-pound trophies. Said that would fill his freezer for a long, long time!
That used to be the case, but nowadays it is more in the neighborhood of 30 to
40 pound fish as the normal catch. Hey, the little ones taste better. When a
fish gets over 50 pounds, the flesh starts to turn a grayish like color and
retains more of the taste and aroma of a true bottom feeder, and you know what
that means! And bringing up a big sized fish against the horrendous currents
found where this species congregates, it can mean black and blue and sore arms
for weeks. By now I was beginning to enjoy this individuals story. I always
look forward to hearing about the trial and tribulations of our visiting
clientele. I was once a tourist! Then a Cheechocto, now a resident. Anyway,
excited about catching the big one was an excuse to cough up the money to spend
on an all day charter. Homer was the place that still had openings. It gets
pretty booked up with just about everything when the fishing season commences.
He said it was a pretty good-sized boat and when they left dock, it was like an
8 hour boat ride. He was convinced that the boat was just going around in
circles and with no landmarks to verify his suspicions, it was hard to tell
where the boat was at. Plus everybody was getting seasick. Then after such a
long journey, it was fishing time. Now what most on-board didn’t realize was
the fact that not a whole lot of extra provisions came with the boat fare. It
meant day old sandwiches and some beans and coleslaw. As soon as the lines hit
the water, it was fish on. It excited the fishing fanatics. Soon, everybody
limited out - 2 fish apiece! In no time at all the captain yelled anchors up to
his crew and the boat was land bound. The people seemed to be struck
speechless. Was it over with? What happened to the big gigantic fish? What was
onboard was about a dozen tiny fish, at most in the ten to fifteen pound range.
All in all, he said he received four fillets about 10-pounds total. And he
wanted to take the catch home, as the boat operation offered cleaning,
packaging and shipping. The boat trip cost him $200.00 dollars. It did include
instant oatmeal for breakfast, something very few were interested in, and a
soggy ham sandwich - by dinnertime taking on the consistency of spam. He liked
that. Then there was the extra cost, that shipping and handling BS. You know
how that goes, just watch a few info-commercials. So all in all, his
calculations put the cost of the fish at some 50-dollars a pound, after adding
everything up. Along with room, board and transportation costs figured in. So
it was evident that the price of the fish under the glass counter was of concern
– about 1/5th the costs! But he kept smiling, even though he
realized now it was a rip-off. He really didn’t seem to mind. Why? He said the
best thing out of the fishing trip was a phone number. At first I didn’t
understand what he was getting at. He was pushing early seventies. I guess at
his age wasting time courting was not an option. It was hard and heavy he said,
just like the halibut fishing! Well I guess he made friends with a special
lady, his age, also out fishing that day. So with that in mind, maybe he was
taken for a ride, for a bride, by an Alaskan guide! Black and blue what?
CopyRight 2006 ERP/MSK Media Back to SHORT STACK List
T’was a beautiful summer’s day
- Alaskan style! Sunshine intensity that commissioned Mr. Fahrenheit to chalk
one up for the record book. And what could have meant a free-for-all swarming
attack from the dreaded mosquito, that was put to rest by a blessing from the
heavens - a breeze of relief. It was the kind of day that insisted on a
carefree romance against time worshipping, thus allowing a wasting of time. I
set out to Westchester Lagoon. With a run-off lake from the snow-melt waters of
the easterly Chugach Mountains and close enough to the inlet to enjoy the tidal
influence, this place begged to be challenged by all kinds of different
waterfowl. It was city nature at its best. It is a place where the Goddess of
nature puts to rest hostilities of the species. There is enough for all. It is
a place that temporarily rests the hostilities of society. Diversity is
allowed, with the rich, the poor, and the homeless. Around the lake and
adjoining tributaries, there exists many different things that can gain one’s
attention. The sound of the diesel locomotive making headway towards town
brings back childhood memories. Tagging along for a joyous rumbling ride,
hundreds of tourist enjoying the sights and sounds of Alaska. And how about
that eagle soaring above in the thermal downdrafts? A freedom flight at its
best. Such a day, a freedom flight for all who had the opportunity to be here.
A flock of geese, with youngsters enjoying the trials and tribulations of their
first flying lessons, taking advantage of the winds off of the inlet. Allowing
ease of free flight. It was fun today, but mother has not told them what is in
store - that long trip south! But today was not a day to worry about the
future. It was a day that kids showed no fear, carefree. So true even with the
parents. I observed one young lad, so overly excited at his freedom. No school,
no nothing accept the fun of learning life. What had gained his undivided
attention, with caution, was the invasion of the dragonfly. There were
literally thousands hanging out on the marsh grasses that littered the western
end of the lagoon. Dragonflies, that one prehistoric insect that gains a kid’s
curiosity. Then I remembered, this winged bug with an un-patented bluish color
was the state of Alaska’s “insect” extraordinaire. Its appearance rekindled
fond memories of my youth. I still wondered, as that young boy must have also
been puzzled, just why some of the insects were stuck together? I didn’t
remember that subject when told about the birds and bees. But I went to a Catholic
school. There the birds and bees had something to do with “look but don’t
touch”. Anyway, I had the urge to be just like that young kid. I wanted to run
through the marsh grasses and disrupt the masses of dragonflies busily employed
at their one and only business. He was having so much fun. But it would be odd
to see an older guy running, like a crazed maniac. The urge was just too
intense. I looked at the mom. Like most mothers, she sensed something. She said
go ahead. I did. Ah, to be youthful again. To run through the waste high grass
and watch the dragonflies take to flight. Were they angry, could they attack?
No they were just dragonflies busy at life. And soon I found myself humming the
dragon song. Puff the magic dragon. I was on high. And to top it off, soon the
chimes of the ice cream man making his rounds. The fantasy ended by sharing a
Popsicle with my friend. I knew I was just like that little kid. I had a mom
that smiled just like his mom. It was a step back in time. No it wasn’t! It just
goes to show that things are still pretty much the same, with some things.
CopyRight 2006 ERP/MSK Media Back
to SHORT STACK List
Corporations big and small are
always trying out new ideas in efforts to get the workforce to mellow out or
“jell”, part of that team spirit building thing. “Jell”, is that supposed to
mean like “Jell-O”, always flavor refreshing and diversified with its
multi-color arrangements? Or is it an abbreviation for Dr. Jekyll, missing the
KY? Was Jekyll the bad guy or was it Hyde? I think the Dr. was after somebody’s
hide! Anyway, the human resource people are always trying to find new cures for
lifting employee moral. Even if things are good around the workplace. They like
to play interference, it’s the only way to justify their jobs. They have tried
promoting the team spirit building thing by allowing daylong “show up as you
please” work sessions away from the workplace along with weekend getaways. Most
of these affairs are catered with tons of food and happy hour free-for-alls.
Another popular prank is the “no-dress” code Fridays. Yes prank. Some people
don’t know how to act when wearing jeans instead of $500 dollar slacks from Sax
5th Avenue. They take offence to being deprived of their crutch,
their clothing. Some call it prejudice, being told how to dress. For myself,
coveralls will do, even for funerals. I remember one oil company executive who
was flabbergasted by just how many meetings it required the town people to
attend just to keep a pipeline pumping oil! A pipeline operation is a pretty
easy endeavor. Even so with the 800-mile dipstick that meanders across the
tundra and mountains of Alaska. I know. I worked on the steel money making
beast. Did you know that the U.S. Congress refers to the Trans-Alaska-Pipeline
as the 20th century’s “cashist of cows”! Anyway, this VIP instituted
a “no-dress” code “no-meetings” Friday. For most of the town incarcerated
employees - nothing like the freedom of being out at a pump station on the
Sagvatonik River - those that spent 5 days 40 hours a week in meetings to
justify their positions, it was a burden. They just didn’t know what to do with
so much spare time. No meetings? They just could not change their bad habits or
desire to assemble, like it was a constitutional mandate and life could not go
on without it. And just how important or impotent are these meetings of the
mindless? Hey, if you work for a pipeline company and you don’t have a wrench
in your hand, you need another job! And here is how bad it gets. One group of
townies once spent over two weeks in meetings because one of the technicians
out on the pipeline complained about the poor quality of the hotdogs. Yes
indeed, in a cost cutting effort cheaper hotdogs were purchased. A pump station
camp can go through a ton of tube steaks. Low and behold, the technician was
right and justified in coming forward to voice his concerns that the cheaper
hotdogs contained more fat and that went against the company’s stay healthy
program. So after two weeks, the town folks decided to purchase the better
quality dogs. Of course maybe it was the rumor that the workers were
considering a work slowdown over the hotdog issue that changed their minds. But
two weeks of meetings over hotdogs? As far as the “no-meeting” Fridays
instituted by the pipeline VIP, well many resorted to disobey the president’s
edict and commenced to have “secret” meetings. What fools! The president was
actually giving them a break! We do things differently up here in Alaska - the
weather made me do it syndrome. You see, we have a lot of wintertime blues. So
one company tried something different, a navel approach at the “Jell”. It held
a weeklong retreat at a nudist colony! It was a mandatory gathering. Laptops
were provided so workers continued to perform their normal duties. The first
days were frightening and most stayed tucked away in their bungalows,
communicating over the wire. But the correspondences broke the ice. Try it! Sit in front of your computer in the
naked. You have access to the entire world, and your nude! From what I
gathered, come the end of the retreat, people had found that nudity was OK, it
allowed shedding of many hostilities. Over the next few months, productivity
skyrocketed with the office workers. This thing worked so well, the company has
already booked the camp for the next touchy feely session. I mean No touchy, No
feely. Maybe this would be a good business to get into, a nudist colony
consultant! Nudity, a definite “chill out”!
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From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
What’s your take on this? I work
with a guy that has an intellect of minus millennium. I am serious. He works
along side me at a power plant. This industrial plant takes water, heats it
past the boiling point to create steam. The steam is then used to turn an
electrical generator. This guy doesn’t even know what temperature water boils
at. He doesn’t even know what temperature water freezes at and he has lived in
Alaska his entire life - some 33 years. Ask him what the triple point of water
is and his minus intellect disappears into a black hole. He thinks Fahrenheit
was the guy who invented ice cream. His dad got him the job. Anyway, if
hereditary dictates passing on of intellect, this guy’s offspring will be way
off base. Just recently he was telling us a story about his sex life. Now when
I talk of sex, it’s from a romantic point of view. Not this guy, its hard core
all the way. In fact, this guy thinks that that hardware store sex maniac was
cool. I guess my young co-worker used to hang out at the hardware store child
pornography palace. The rags to riches hardware store guy is the Michael
Jackson of Alaska. The only difference? Alaska is still like a territory when
it comes to child use and abuse, so this guy was sent to jail. But during the
trial, which was going on during the same time that Michael stole the scene, my
co-worker justified his position of why the hardware store guy was cool and the
whole court thing was a frame up. My friend thought it was cool to have an
underage party place, where drinking, drugs and sex were the theme of
indulgence. It was described as a place that allowed almost everything that was
illegal, even the theft of young girls underpants. During one conversation at
work, I asked this guy if he would bring his sister over to the sex palace and
introduce her to Mr. Sicko who enjoyed oral sex from girls young enough to
still have diapers. Of course he would not or could not answer the point blank
question. It was as if his brain synopsis had short-circuited. He just didn’t
get it. Anyway, further on in the conversation,
my shift supervisor told me that our co-worker got some biker chick pregnant.
Oh no I thought. The worst of my fears was coming true. His intellect and a
biker chick producing an offspring? So much for no child left behind! But then
he went on to tell me and a few other interested co-workers that this guy paid
for an abortion. Wow, maybe he did have a smidgen of sense. So take your pick.
Isn’t it better to have an aborted fetus then an un-aborted feces? Bottom line,
this child if born would have had a “shitty” life. It would have been a welfare
no-dad affair with AIDS as a sidekick. To this action my friend was proud. Why.
It is hard to say. But he knows he is not a very responsible person, so why
tread on somebody else’s well-being? It was the cheap way out. It was the only
way out! Justification rules, without partisan or bipartisan indemnification!
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From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
Summer in Alaska means not
only a bombardment from kamikaze like mosquitoes the size of small birds, but
from hordes of invading tourist. Alaska is a long, long ways away. It takes
time, energy and money to afford one the opportunity to visit the “Last
Frontier” state. Many wannabe Alaskan adventurers stash away
$100 dollar bills for years, in anticipation of that “North to Alaska” trip.
Others raid their retirement fund. And plan preparations can take just as many
years as the saving years. Let’s face it, that trip to Alaska is a once in a
lifetime ordeal. The other day I ran into an entire family of tourist out and
about enjoying the coastal trail. Conversation gained momentum when the husband
heard me answer an affirmative that I was an Alaskan resident. He really became
my best friend when it was made aware that I worked at a military base, as he
was also employed by a service industry that supports the men and women in
uniform. It is that touchy feely thing amongst men - a guy thing - especially
with a war of sorts going on in Babylon – I mean Baghdad. Now most
conversations between the tourist and local gadabouts amounts to the same
boring thing. Where’s the best place to fish? I frown away from the sport
fishing questions. I don’t like combat fishing and hesitate sending a tourist
on a sojourn that could spell disaster. Especially if the river bank “Ruski” is
around. Really, down at Ship Creek there is a gal that walks up and down the
bank. If someone yells out “fish on” and others don’t heed the warning, the
“Ruski” will cut your line! I think she is Arnold’s twin sister. But most seem
to enjoy the elbow-banging-elbow chaos. And then there is the question about
the “mountain”. Some call it McKinley. Others like to name its majesty Denali.
The fact of the matter, the mountain is usually shrouded in clouds. So why
drive some 300-miles to view clouds? Unless one gets amusement out of hitting
potholes at 65-mph. Rental cars take a beating up here. I tell tourist the best
place to see the mountain is right here in Anchorage. Really, what can be more
pleasant then sitting out at one of the local breweries enjoying a cold one and
taking in the mountain, with all of the adjacent surrounding peaks. “Don’t go
North”, stay here I say! Now this family was up in Alaska for a reason entirely
different then one would expect. The husband told me he was sent up here to,
“see what Stevens has done”, for the state. WHAT? Sure enough, this guy worked
for a military contractor. He went on to explain that it was a small operation
out of No-Fork, Virginia. Ah “sweet” Virginia, “got to scrape the shit right
off my shoes”! Thank you Keith. Now this company that employed my new-found
friend employed about ten people specializing in training international interpreters.
Right before the invasion on Iraq, this company went around the country and
recruited ex-Iraqis. The plan was to mobilize specially trained groups of
individuals who knew the country, in efforts to help at disrupting the regime
of Sad-man Hussein. Anyway, this guy went on to emphasize how the plan was
approved with the disrupters all geared up and ready to go, to defend their
homeland. Sorry, I only have one homeland! But during the time between the
initial training and the call to duty, the parent company of the company that
was a subsidiary to another subsidiary to the nth degree subsidiary, well it
lost out on the bid to provide the service to the Department of Something. The
contract was up for bid and was a scarf up for an Alaskan Native Corporation.
Now these corporations get special preference as minority contractors.
Basically, if a native corporation wants a contract that is up for bid, they
automatically receive the bid, no questions asked. They don’t even have to
prove that the “made by Congress” corporation has a history or an
infrastructure to carry through with the contract. Some call it highway
robbery. It is basically a no-bid process, even though the regulators refer to
it as some fancy equal opportunity thing, or words to the effect, basically
unidentified federal objectives(UFO) with definitions not even found in
Webster’s! So in efforts to get the job done, the native corporations usually
hire back the previous outfit that had for so many years been successful at the
endeavors. But it comes at a cost. See, even though it is a government
give-away program, there is basically no more money afforded to do the same
damn job. With that in mind, the subsidiaries accept the new offer at a lower
cost. It is either that or bankruptcy! Lower cost means lower profit means
lower wages. Now the price that the expatriates had bargained for to
voluntarily place themselves in harms way was pretty pricey. With the cost
cutting in effect, as the no-bid corporations have to place some profits in the
shareholders briefs, the Iraqi’s protested and decided to not perform. This
upset the managers, as without the coup patrols, they could not perform the
contract and were about to loose everything. It all had to do with the no-bid
deal becoming a no-deal for the performers. So meetings were held in which the
Sweet Virginia senator became involved. But he was no match for Alaska’s senior
citizen senator. Ted Stevens did have a lot to do with the “no-bid” scenario.
But Ted wouldn’t budge and things started going way down-hill for the
Virginians. No one messes with the “Hulk”. I prefer to call him the “Little
Runt”. And Ted gets depressed when people try to undermine his stand at what he
thinks is right for the United States of Alaska. So in efforts to show that Ted
really knew what he was doing, the corporation decided to send some of the
subsidiaries managers, with families, on a weekend trip to Alaska - to see what
Ted has done for the 49th state. A wonderful weekend in Alaska. What
a joke. You can’t see squat in two days time! So this family was stuck in
Anchorage. That’s not so bad. When everybody is out of town, this town is OK.
But as a tourist, man head out on the highways. But the Virginians did talk
about how nice the city was, especially with all of the coastal trails out and
about in every direction one chooses to venture. Wait a minute! I am sure that
when these folks get back home, one thing that will be of remembrance are the
trails. Ted had nothing to do with the trails! In fact it was the ex-mayor ex-governor
who made possible such a city rarity so extended. These trails are used all
year round. From walking to running to biking to skiing. And didn’t Ted
secretly use the trail thing against Knowles - who was once the Anchorage mayor
and Alaska governor - during the latest senate campaigns? Yes indeed, there
came a barrage of attacks from unknown outside interests pointing out that if
the democratic challenger were elected to the senate, there would be trails
everywhere. Trails go against the grain of privacy and some think it is
borderline welfare. Trails are associated with environmentalist and the
homeless. Put the money in highways, not trails, was the election sentiment.
Well, the trail-boss lost! Anyway, these friendly tourist from Virginia were left
with a pretty good impression of Alaska. Not from what Ted has done, but from
what the Creator has provided and made possible to enjoy by meandering along
the trails. Then again, when an individual like Ted has so much power over our
everyday lives, when does one think beyond just representation? Did I hear
someone say, “Hail Ted”?
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From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
Last year it meant the Blue
Angels. This year, nothing! I’m talking about that yearly show of military
might found across “this land is your land, this land is my land” during the
summertime break. I still think Woody should have received the honors for the
“Greatest” American of all times. Ronny couldn’t sing. With school out for the
summer and forced vacations due to conveniently scheduled plant shutdowns, the
air shows at the military bases have become a main attraction to stymie the
boredom and “summertime blues”. What is neat about the air shows - besides free
admission - is the fact that the bases are normally off limits to the general
public. That is what is so unique about this trespass, as it allows the public
to catch a glimpse of what goes on behind the scenes to protect our freedoms.
But for this year, political rebellion has mandated the military base commander
to cancel the Elmendorf Air Force 05 show here in Anchorage. You see, it takes
a whole bunch of money to put on an air show. I have heard somewhere in the
neighborhood of $250,000.00 dollars for overtime wages. And since that money is
not available from normal budgetary appropriations, it takes that phone call
from powerful U.S. senators - with money to spend. Alaska has powerful representatives
in D.C. with loads of loot. So for the last twelve republicans in command
years, the residents and tourist alike have enjoyed one of the greatest shows
on earth. So why not this year? Well it seems the voters in the “Last Frontier”
state’s biggest city finally went tired of the republican Ruderich. That’s not
some cloned name for the rude and rich. Ruderich was the Alaskan GOP
representative who admitted breaking the state’s ethics rules when seated in a
governor’s appointed commission position. Political fallout was aroused. So we
elected a democratic mayor. But that has posed a series of serious problems.
Now the new guy on the block running the city is at odds with the son of the
U.S. senator who is a state senator. In a nutshell, it is pay back time. The
fact that political nepotism gets in the way of respectful governance is
sinful. It basically takes away from my life, liberty and pursuit of happiness.
Now the excuse from the Hall of Shame that is supposed to protect my
constitutional rights said the air show cancellation was due to money
shortfalls. We have been dumped on, it is more like a constipationalists bill
of rights controlled by stool stuck politicians. I want my air show! Bottom
line, it has nothing to do with appropriations shortfalls! Hey, if we can
subsidize - through Federal funding - a blueberry drying facility here in
Alaska, the place of lousy berries, we can support that once yearly air show
that brings people together and supports the kids in uniform. You are now
asking what does this have to do with blueberries? Some outfit was able to
secure taxpayer money to build a hi-tech drying facility. Now blueberries only
grow wild in Alaska. And by the time the fruit is ripe, it is already dried
out. But some guy wants to dry the berries to death. It has something to do
with the medical industry and some farfetched idea to save the world. Maybe the
dried berries can be used as a laxative. If so, there are plenty of potential
guinea pig candidates hunkering down along Pennsylvania Avenue. Then again,
maybe smoking the dried berries can provide a cheap thrill. Already the
environmentalist are saying no to this project, as sending a bunch of
unemployed workers as qualified berry pickers across the pristine eco-system
found in Alaska can be devastating, there are bears out there! And doesn’t
Maine produce an over-surplus of blueberries? Of course, Maine-iacs will be
getting their air show this year. I am off on a tangent. What happened to my
air show? It was cancelled! Blue Angels to blueberries. Anyway, as I meandered
along Westchester Lagoon on the Saturday morning that would have been the day
of the air show, I came across a very interesting scene. Not to far offshore in
the waters of the lagoon, an island setting reminded me of nature at its
finest. It was a crowded piece of natural real estate. It was diversity at its
best. Geese, with young ones. Gulls with young ones. Several varieties of
ducks, also with young ones - you name it. All sharing the island as if it
belonged to no one in particular. The small parcel of un-submerged grassland
was a secure shelter. The newborn winged - growing wings - were still too young
to fend for themselves. And without the mobility to elude and escape, it meant
a constant vigil by the adults. There was an overabundance of yakking going on.
But all in all, the many different species shared what little protection the
island afforded, all with concern for their young ones. Then my thoughts of the
cancelled air show started to disappear as a different kind of air show was
starting to unfold right before me in the skies above the sheltered island.
First to take-off were the gulls, dozens of them. Some flew circles around the
island, while many others flew off towards the coast. Then the geese took to
flight. The stretched physique of these birds flying in formation gave witness
to a formidable air force. Then the shore birds heeded the call to duty and
maintained an armada that looked like a giant reptile maneuvering about in a
serpentine dance. It was like a dance, all so carefully choreographed. Now what
was responsible for this increased activity level could be seen off in the
distant heavens. One cannot mistake the flight of the eagle. Mighty wings
slowly propelling our national symbol of strength towards its destination. In
this case, the island was the target. It was survival in loco-motion. The eagle
maneuvered closer and closer. The diversity of birds went on the intercept.
Unleashing kamikaze like attacks in efforts to thwart off the great birds
interest in what was so seemingly secure at the offshore outpost. The fox had failed to bridge the divide,
what would be the fait of the eagle’s quest? Several dive-bombing attempts at
something of interest brought the eagle almost to touchdown on the island.
There existed many targets, young waterfowl with undeveloped wings. And when in
close proximity to victory, the eagle’s success was arrested by a ruthless
coalition defense. It looked more like a swarm of bees made angry by someone or
somebody on the trespass. This time, the eagle retreated. So for the next few
days, like clockwork, the eagle made its approach. But each day was different,
as the protectors tried different strategies to thwart off the attack. It was
the finest of air shows day after day. The maneuvering about of the different
species in harmony to protect was magnificent. So far advanced, well beyond
what man has been able to copycat. I had become remiss in my daily visits to
the lagoon, other priorities. But when I did have the opportunity to once again
spend some time observing the island’s inhabitants, the little time that had
transpired told a different story. Gone now was the eagle’s daily pilgrimage to
bombard the island’s inhabitants that could not fend for themselves. The
newborn had tested mobility and liked it! And with the salmon showing up in the
many tributaries that drains the mountain snowmelt, the eagle was off to bigger
and better hunting grounds. I had my air show. Not once, but many times over.
And each time was a little different as if the intruders and protectors learned
from each and every conflict the ways of survival. As far as the island? It was
quiet now. It was vacant except for a few magpies that seemed to be policing
for leftovers. And for now, a purple haze like backdrop made its yearly debut.
Like a stage curtain drawn, the fireweed was testament to the cycle of nature’s
continuing success. Soon the cold winds from the north will send the great
flocks south. Soon the cold nights of winter will challenge the open water, demanding
ice. And that will mean time for an invasion upon the island, not by the fox,
by the ice-walkers!
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What’s all the interest in
this vanity plate scam? It has to be a way to make money and at the same time
offer up the element of confusion. And doesn’t vanity mean “worthless”. Maybe,
but not for the extra money your local motor vehicle department garnishes for
this frenzy of intellectual malfeasance. But besides the money making end of
this capitalistic must have, it has become a national craze. It’s like a
constant on-the-road-again game. Trying to figure out just what the letters
stand for. There are also WEB sites dedicated to this dereliction of time.
There are contests! Now there is an interesting story about a guy here in
Alaska who decided to pay the DMV for the so-called “personalized” plates.
Personalized, so close to home it makes one feel impotent. Alaskan’s do things
in a big way. It’s a big state with big pipelines and big animals. We also take
a lot of pride in consistently winning the “Pork” king award. And the “Hog”
award keeps coming our way also. Such notoriety has to do with all the weird
ways of spending the taxpayers’ money. Really, your hard earned money was used
to study this! The Trans-Alaska-Pipeline was designed to be in operation for
only about ten years at the most. That was supposed to end in 1984. Now when
the oil dried up some 20 years ago, Alaska would be left with an 800-mile piece
of pipe from Prudhoe Bay to Valdez. There was money put aside by the oil
companies to dismantle the beast, but that was tied to a retirement fund that
was tied to this and that. Bottom line, there is no piggy bank to raid in
efforts to get rid of the oil filled pipe. It is also a well known and an
accepted theory that trying to wrestle the pipe out of the ground would just be
too damn disruptive to the ecosystem. Hey, we could disrupt the system to place
the pipe, but no no in reverse! That was clean pipe. The pipe is now hazardous.
Well some lunatic scientist insisted on the fact that the pipe, which is a
conductor of electricity, could be used to do just that - generate electricity,
for free. It had to do with the Aurora Borealis, or Northern Lights. Modern day
electric generators work on the theory of a metal conductor rotating in a
magnetic field. The magnetic field itself is generated from electric current
flowing through adjacent metal conductors. The fact that the rotating conductor
cuts the magnetic field causes subsequent current flow. So we take a motive
force - like steam - and use it to rotate the metal conductors and thus create
electricity. So the idea in Alaska was to allow the 800-mile metal conductor to
act as the rotating conductor. The earth is somewhat spherical, so with such
great length in the pipeline, it was indeed a rotating object. Now the magnetic
field required here would be that found from when the atmosphere gets angry and
produces the aurora. It all sounds so good on paper. It actually works on
paper. But the Aurora’s magnetic filed is pretty minute. So small of scale that
it would take several more 800-mile long pipelines to make it feasible. In
fact, the entire landscape of Alaska would have to be littered with 4-foot
diameter metal conductors! Maybe then, the original pipeline could finally be
shut-down, in efforts to generate electricity. I really doubt it though. It
makes too much money when operating only half full of oil! That’s another story
to tell! But that is not the sad part of this story. In efforts to research
this boondoggle of an idea, it required a super-computer. So guess what you the
taxpayers purchased? Yes indeed, a Cray Super-duper computer. It is housed in
some dorm room in Fairbanks, Alaska. It requires an armada of technicians to
maintain. It takes more electricity to run then the entire project, even with
an extra zero slipped in to make it look feasible. Anyway, it points to the
thieves at work again. What I am talking about here are these so-called
scientists who survive on government welfare for some off the wall idea that
isn’t feasible. Hey, spend the money on a cure for breast cancer! Back to the
plates. This guy shows up at the DMV in Anchorage. He hasn’t registered his
vehicle in over 5 years. In Alaska, the owner must pay up, it is called back
track income. Cash on the counter it was. Now when asked about insurance, well
he didn’t have any. Not to forget, DMV people are also sales people. So in no
time, the guy purchases a policy. Now when on the phone with the local gecko,
the DMV person overhears the guy give a different name. So she was quick to
realize that the guy was using a stolen credit card. But the policy was signed,
sealed and delivered and this guy was close to being road legal. But not to
forget the personalized plates! The guy couldn’t make up his mind, as all the
good 5-letter guess-me plates are taken and copyright protected. See, the
Fed.’s also make a killing on the plates. The DMV representative suggested
“CROOK”. He was in agreement, with a smile! So now his run-down valiant with
bumpers hanging on by aged “duct” tape sported a brand new yellow license plate
telling it all, “CROOK”. She reported this unusual activity and behavior to the
boss and it was directed to the law enforcers. They decided to stake him out
for a few days, as there was a rash of burglaries around the neighborhood, up
the hill where the wealthy people hide. He was caught. How about the guy that
ended up here in Alaska from Montana? He went AWOL from the military and
high-tailed it to Alaska. He didn’t realize that the 49th state was
part of the United States. No child left behind! Anyway, now tasting freedom in
the “Last Frontier”, he re-registered his vehicle and was sold a set of vanity
plates. How about “AWOL”. He was caught. So let’s give credit to the DMV
people, as they are doing their double duty jobs. Selling useless vanity plates
and getting the crooks behind bars. Just in: The vanity plate craze accounts
for a 10% increase in fender bending accidents and contributes to road rage.
Hey, my insurance just went up that same percentage! See, that’s how the
insurance industry works. If their research indicates that accidents are caused
by a “social” element, then they are justified to spread the losses around.
Let’s take back that “credit”! Maybe it is time to go back to random plates,
but it is hard to break horses in midstream. Hey, I wonder how many plates the
pipeline could make? This idea could foster a new business. We have crooks
behind bars. We have steel. I think I’m on to something “big”. Maybe I can get
that Cray to perform a financial analysis. Maybe I can get some “pork” to build
a stamping plant. How about “Bar Code” plates? Then I could make a bunch of
money selling scanners! Hey, how about a cap with a “Bar Code”. Nobody would
know what it really says. It could say all kinds of nasty things, and people
would still smile. It’s called intimidation!
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In order for something to be
classified as an invention and merit ownership protection it has to be useful.
Except “ownership” may be a thing of the past with the U.S. Supreme Court of
Rehnquist’s most recent opinion determining that state sovereignty has claim to
the people’s property. I sent my voter registration card to the chief justice
after the 2000 rejected election selection. Now though, true property ownership
can be had in efforts to tear down a trailer park to build more expensive
housing, or a Wall-Mart. It’s housing for housing or better whereby the state
can claim - besides more money from puberty tax - the change is beneficial for
the entirety. Except, where does the trailer park trash relocate too? How come
Americans feel free to bash their brothers and sisters who can’t afford
multi-million dollar homes? Maybe the bashers aren’t true Americans. Aliens,
not brothers and sisters! Now ownership protection and the word “useful” takes
on an entirely different meaning when the U.S. Patent office gets a hold of it
and uses it as the rule of thumb for awarding a patent. Basically, in order for
something to be registered as a patent, it has to pass muster as a worthwhile
“intellectual” benefit to mankind. In this day and age of hi-tech this and
that, modern day inventions - patents - surround us like surround around sound.
You can’t get away from the madness in any direction! And I don’t know if this
stuff enhances our intellect or confuses it. Is that my cell phone ringing or
is it yours? It’s not mine, I don’t have one, don’t need one, don’t want one! I
don’t own a watch either. Never once have I been late. Accept for my tax
return. Actually, I am scared of all the modern day electronic gismos and
devices. Do you have a take on what single device holds more patents then any
other? And it didn’t need a battery or charger. Here’s a hint courtesy of Mr.
K&E. “A Gudermannian scale, patented by Okura, enabled the user to read
hyperbolic functions”. Yes indeed, the good old slide rule. That was one hell
of an invention. I tried selling one at a garage sale. Some kid gave me a buck.
He thought it was a Luc Skywalker gadget. If he swung it right, the moving
slide became airborne artillery. But I finally came across the greatest of
inventions. It was as intellectual as that definition allows. According to
Webster’s: “Intellectual, having or showing great mental ability”. Let me try
to explain it using the “in a nutshell” theory. You have a horse. You have a
carriage. Intellect says the horse comes before the carriage. Got that right.
Even though the saying seems to indicate that somebody has already tried to
defy the mechanics behind motion. Now the carriage in this case carries
passengers. And the horse, well it is a big animal. It eats a lot of food. It
also likes to produce a lot of waste. Now for those on a romantic gallivant in
one of those snow white horse-powered limos decked out with roses and the high
end ones providing champagne, what could be more of a turnoff then to witness
depositing mounds of regurgitated whatever laid out by the horse from your
buggy? And Feces pieces give off a lot of bad gas. Depending on the wind
currents, you may take that smell as the breath of your companion. Or is it the
champagne? Not funny at some $120.00 dollars an hour for the ride. And the
mounds can be monstrous! Big enough to swallow a Suzuki sedan! Did you ever see
the size of this thing? I’m not complaining, as I own a Sidekick. Smaller the
better with oil going up at the same rate Dick Chaney gets a replacement
kicker. I have a friend who drives one of the little sedans. He fills up the gas
tank once a month. His only complaint about the price of gas is the long lines
at the place that advertises “petro” at two cents per gallon cheaper. It cuts
into his beer drinking time. Oh and not to mention the time his 4-wheeled tub
was lost in a snowstorm. Really! Following a good whiteout and stuck at work
all day, upon the end of the shift, no car to be found. It was a white car to
begin with. It was buried in snow. So the next day, the other workers
surrounded his sedan like the covered wagons used to do in the old days.
Sidebar: Do you really think a price difference of a few cents is going to make
any difference when filling up the tank on one of those SUV type rigs? So back
to the horse and buggy. What did come first, the horse or the buggy? Anyway,
the invention is pretty simple. It consists of a diaper drip pan. It doesn’t
actually fit the horse, but it provides a convenient catch basin for when
nature calls, which seems to be every time a group of tourist wants to take a
stroll around town. I observed this invention, it works quite well. The
materials are also simple and readily available at your local Wall-Mart. And
with manure in demand, added benefits. Hey, finally a reason for the mart! I am
sure this invention can be found in all the great cities of the world, as it
must be an evolutionary invention of intervention. And for this lesson in man’s
inventiveness, I will call it, “Horse Shatcatcher”. Getting back to Webster and
the definition of intellectual. According to reliable sources, way back when,
“pork” money was spent on coming up with a way to rid the cobblestone streets
of horse droppings. The “Horseless” carriage was born. But I hear through
another reliable source that modern day “pork” money is still used to research
moose droppings, up here in Alaska. And from that taxpayers’ funded research,
intellectual property was once again born. That good old American spirit is
alive and well. And other countries laugh at our unending ingenuity. Yes
indeed, now we have this gizmo whereby one strokes the antlers of a wooden
replica of a moose and what pops out of its pooper? A candy, disguised as a you
know what! Maybe we need a similar device for the Supreme Court. Stroke it, out
comes more eminent domain abuse. It has become nothing short of a Court of
Special Interest. Hey, there exist poor people out there. Some people do not
have the luxury to just pack up and move to another place. Trailer space is
getting harder and harder to come by. These people would love to live in a
house fit for a judge. I make a wager. I bet there is not one judge out their
that lives in a house that has a value less then a half million dollars. So the
domino domain theory does not affect the bench sitters. Eminent domain has a
cause when the cause does not interfere to make people homeless. But our Great
Judges would have no idea what the word “poor” means. If they did, Webster’s
word count would be one less!
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This is a classic case
supporting Laura’s claim to fame, that of being instrumental in imposing “No
Child Left Behind” responsibilities upon the educational system. Basically,
upon us all, as the president’s wife rules! It seems to be paying off. I think
she is promoting this “do-it-or-loose-it” money-laundering scheme because “by
George”, her husband is way far behind. Let us see. We are still at war with
Iraq even though that mission was accomplished, some 3-years ago. That conflict
gets closer to a civil war each and every day. His closest confidant is under
heat for breaking the U.S. security oath. Doesn’t “Rove” mean to set free? The
price of oil is mind-boggling. His presidency has gone from lam duck to insane
muck. And this educational thing, it is definitely a money-laundering scheme.
If school districts don’t make the grade then appropriations from the White
House of thievery, the resting place for those who feel compelled to garnish the
taxpayers’ income, that money will find another place to get spent. Mark Twain
was right about our representatives! Yes, I keep repeating that sentiment. Why?
Because our representatives continue to prioritize representing criminal
activity over anything and everything else! Well known beyond a reasonable
doubt and debt, to which the citizens will pay. Righteousness has been left
behind. What ever happened to summer school? It used to be for the failing
population, providing an individual the opportunity to make the grade for the
next grade. Staying back is my definition of being “left behind”. That was
definitely cruel and unusual treatment. I was once a candidate forced to spend
my summertime days away from the swamps and attend what was considered extended
detention. I wasn’t very good in math. That would change. Just the thought of
having to spend four hours a day with Sister Ilene, that was enough to scare
knowledge my way. Sister Ilene was a raggedy old witch. She was strong as an
ox. She knew how to take on the biggest of troublemakers. She must have been
Irish. With the penguin outfit along with that silly looking head cover - nuns
were bald - and a yardstick for protection, it was like being on the take of a
Luc Skywalker flick. Why me I thought? But over the course of a month or so, I
found out what Sister Ilene was really about. She was a completely different
individual when not meeting the goals and expectations as the school principle.
And even though the school was supposed to provide a first rate education for
enrolled students, it also was the depository for kids in trouble. Once the
troublemakers were cast out of the public schools, it was either St. Leo’s or Sockanosset – the latter being the kids jail! Sister Ilene along
with Sister Pauline and the sisterhood cast - all in armadillo like body armor
- they could whip anybody with an attitude into ship shape. So she changed my
attitude towards math. She was good. She even held a smile during the morning
lesson session attended by two other unlucky candidates. Actually, looking
back, we were the lucky ones. After that summer session, I never did have any
lasting problems with understanding how numbers relate to the alphabet and vise
versa. Even when in college and studying calculus through statics to
statistics. It came easily. Why? Because this dedicated individual knew how to
teach and failure to her was indeed somebody being left behind. It didn’t
matter whether it was from intellectual weaknesses or rowdiness, she could tame
it. All by her self! Mother Teresa reminds me so much of Sister Ilene. Maybe we
need more Sisters of Mercy then Laura likes. Laura tried to take on Hilary,
over some comment about “plantations”. Just the use of that word caused a media
riot. I didn’t think it was such a big deal. Did you know that the state of
Rhode Island is officially known as “Providence Plantation”? What would make a
descent test question for “No Adult Left Behind” is asking whether or not Rhode
Island is an actual island? Anyway, one of the neighborhood schools was
advertising the ongoing daily activities, when school was officially out for
the summer. Schools make money in the summer, under rental assistance programs.
So the “Y” was having summer day camp. Out if front of the parking lot was this
fancy sign. It was the magnetic type with colorful plastic letters that could
be easily maneuvered about. Originally it read, “Y Summer Day Camp”. But over
the course of traveling back and forth from downtown, most likely during the
recess period, I noticed that a few of the students were intrigued by the
freedom of the letters. The sign now advertised, something of interest! It read
out, “Yummy made crapes”. But that didn’t go over too well with the guys, as
“crapes” are French! And we have been conditioned, by our unaccountable
representatives, that the French are no longer fit enough to even have the
“fries” named in their honor. So masculinity won out. Now we had, “Yummy mad
crap”. Yes indeed, “No Child Left Behind”! Lets face it. With kids’ parents
joining the ranks of full time ambassadors of Wal-Mercks - Chinese junk and
drug addiction - summer camps have become a necessity. You can’t leave kids at
home by themselves anymore. Small infractions at almost anything can send the
kids under the custody of child protection police, citing the missing parents
with duty dereliction. It used to be that kids spent time at the beach, or at a
grandparent’s farm. But not everybody has a Crawford! So we work more, as
double income is required for many households. Such defines the new class
system here in America. There now exists the too tired for sex class and the
too bored for sex class. See, if a couple is still together and included in the
latter class, it means a single income household. Which means that the income
provider is working all the time. If the guy works, the wife gets bored with
the lifestyle and gives up sex. In fact, here in Alaska, the boredom drives the
wives to power lunches at the Petroleum Wives Club, were naked male dancers
serve the goodies! Now in the other class, it means one of two things. If both
parents work the same shift, they are too tired to couple copulate. And if they
work opposite shifts? You get the drift. Man, I only spent a few weeks in
summertime detention. I waited the entire school year just for summertime fun
time. That one summer, incarcerated at summer school, it was enough to instill
in me that once was enough. To miss out on the activities down at the swamps,
that was my dereliction to growing up. It made me cop an entirely different
attitude towards life and freedom. I was destined to be left behind! Maybe we
need more children left behind. Maybe by being left behind, it can promote
freethinking. Freethinking is what this country needs, without a doubt. We have
the right, it has been left behind.
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We are always trying to
re-invent the wheel up here in Alaska. Case in point. When the oil companies
struck oil back in the early 70’s, the state bureaucrats had no idea what to
charge for a royalty fee. In California, a 50 percent royalty is pretty common.
It means half is yours and half is mine with respect to the oil exploited out
of the ground, since the resources belong to the people. Fifty/fifty is a
pretty square and fair deal. But the Alaskan capital gang, who must have been
somehow tied to the oil companies, well they settled on 12 percent! Actually, I
think they found this number in the book titled, “Oil Company Rip Off 101”.
Such a loosing percentage proposition has nothing to do with true economic
conditions rested upon supply and demand theory. It has been a nightmare for
some thirty years. Alaska continues to loose millions of dollars a day with the
latest $50 dollars a barrel oil price surge. And when the lawmakers even hint
of trying to change the current fee structure, a cast of high-powered lawyers
representing the Queen runs crying to the FERC. This is the government
strong-arm that sides with big business. The citizens have FEMA, they have
FERC. FERC is stronger then FEMA. The outcome is predictable. And the Queen
does own most of the oil in Alaska! Now talk about re-inventing the wheel, this
is a real good one. Most of the time and efforts spent trying to re-invent the
wheel comes about because funding – in the form of grants – just seems to end
up here in the 49th state. A grant doesn’t ever have to be paid
back. Some people find grant money under their pillows at night! For years, it
has been like a free-for-all. This handout comes all the way from the Treasury
some many, many miles away. But why pass up a freebie? Anchorage is Alaska’s
big city. Now the roads around the town follow an Einsteinium formula with
respect to jurisdiction. Much to complicated to comprehend with some semblance
of intelligence. First we have the municipality. City government runs on a
local property tax base. It is frugal with its spending since services versus
taxation is a volatile type issue. Then we have the DOT, or expanded, the
Department of Transportreason. This entity gets operating money from secret
sources. And it just doesn’t care about the highways. It even has jurisdiction
on some community cul-de-sacs. And since the DOT gets “flash” money from
Senator Old Grouchy Bastard, they like to spend it. “Flash” money is that kind
of regurgitated taxpayer money that is appropriated for something and used for
something completely different so in reality disappears. It is a whole lot
better then free “grants”. I should say, it shows up and quickly disappears.
That quick. Just like a “flash” flood. Now you can always tell the roads that
are maintained by the “flash cash” flood money – your money. In the winter,
these roads appear to be immune from winter storms with not ever seeing even a
flake of snow! Claiming touchdown on DOT turf would be a victory for nature.
The sidewalks are plowed even before many of the major city maintained roads
ever see a blade. After midnight, one will find an army of workers clearing
snow as it snows, all on double time wages. Anyway, the DOT decided to save
some money. I don’t know why? So to ease traffic congestion, they decided on
what is called a “roundabout”. The name speaks for itself. It makes you dizzy
trying to maneuver about at the same time trying to get out of the way of
typical Anchorage drivers. It is difficult lane changing when centrifugal force
rules. Now these things are pretty common on the east coast of United States,
where real estate is a problem, especially around Boston. Alaska has a whole
bunch of land! But it has taken years for the Yanks to understand just how to
safely maneuver in and out without getting stuck going round and round. In
Anchorage, we received the double whammy. Maybe they think we are smarter up
here because we swindle more taxpayer money per capita then Arizona. Alaska has
been the “Hog Pork” winner forever. So we now have to contend with a double
round about! Now for a city where the drivers think a stop sign is only a
suggestion, lookout. The 15-mph speed signs have already disappeared. If you
want a laugh, grab a few beers and take a roadside seat along the “design of
the year” attraction, just to see how this thing doesn’t work to further
brotherly love. But the best thing about the turnaround project - or whatever
it is called - was the road leading into and out of the tunnel of doom. The
roads were redone to accommodate the traffic jams. Roundabouts don’t have
traffic lights. Traffic lights are a control device. Without them, everybody is
in control. It causes horrendous traffic jams. Of course the engineer that won
the award from hell for this design insists that it will take time for the
drivers to respect and appreciate this novel idea. In fact, the DOT has a WEB
site that drivers can log onto to see how Pac-Man maneuvers about! Now part of
the city code mandates that all road projects must have a landscaping clause.
It lasts for two years following the project completion and remains the
responsibility of the road maintainer, in this case, the DOT. So come
completion of the turncoat roundabout, wildflowers - with a life expectancy of
two days - were planted up and down the road. Come the following year, all that
can be found now along the sidewalks are Class “A” Alaskan weeds. We had a very
hot summer in Alaska in 05. It was out of the ordinary and felt so good. The
only thing bad about it, when residents started stripping off their normal
summer layers of clothing, it was discovered that 65 percent of the residents
were “obese”. Regardless, we are all for global warming up here! Anyway,
without the rain, the weeds started dying. It was a homeowners dream come true!
But not to worry as the DOT express would not renege on their duty to maintain
the roadside landscaping. So each day now, for the last two months, the DOT
water truck with specially designed nozzles provides relief for the weeds. I
must admit, with the warm temperatures and little moisture, the weed patch is
looking pretty good. It is Weed Lane. At the same time, lawns are turning brown
in July. And this watering frenzy will go on for the remainder of the summer.
Low and behold, next summer also. There will be no attempt to re-seed the
roadside. The contract didn’t call for weed control, just landscaping. It
doesn’t specify what can grow or what shall be planted. Eventually, the city
will take over. But there is no flash money available in the city coffers. So
the weeds be NOT gone, but will flourish. First to show will be the Dandelions.
And this little devil will produce millions if not billions of the tiny little
dancers, parachuting seeds that will be carried off with the slightest of
breezes. Now Dandelions are an interesting species. In fact, Alaska gets
“flash” money in efforts to eradicate this weed from spreading north! Each
year, a handful of college students are hired to get drunk, and when hung over
enough ramble out on the tundra of Denali National Park to face hordes of
kamikaze attacking mosquitoes and pick the weed. Now another interesting
research project that was parlayed by us of the U.S. was to study how the
dandelion was so proliferate in the 49th state. This is what the
PHD’s found out. First, the dandelion found a suitable habitat in Anchorage.
Roadsides provided just what the weed needed to survive. Now most of the major
roads through Anchorage start at the south end and head north. Head North young
man! Very convenient from a surveyor’s standpoint. These roads originated as
dirt roads and over time turned into multilane thoroughfares with 50-mph speed
limits. Now this direction of convenience also allowed the once blocked winds
coming up Cook Inlet to be funneled north. So it became the direction of
conveyance also. Now along with super-size me vehicles, the wind currents are amplified.
It is like a modern day catapult. The seeds are hyper-driven north. So we have
projects that waste money watering weeds, they grow. We have projects that
waste money in efforts to study the weed. We have projects that waste money
trying to destroy the same weeds. And we have “roundabouts”, the culprit behind
it all. And since man’s efforts rally around a Mobius strip mentality, what
goes around comes around. And in time, some flash money will be available to
eradicate the roads that are causing the dandelion weed to move north. Weed
whacking the Alaskan way!
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We hear words like sovereignty.
We hear words like domain. We reinforce these words with adjectives like
eminent. Is that latter word an adjective or the name of a clown? I come from
the lower ranks of the “no adult left behind” generation, so my grammar
consists of nouns, verbs and all the other stuff is considered fodder, or
adjectives. All in all, these words when combined into phrases seem to be
pretty threatening. Especially when it sounds out from an over-pressurized
orifice! Sound requires air pressure, which is what lungs are all about. Speech
requires a coordination of that pressure. Other things also rely on a pressure
release. We now know that it is a trustworthy right of the government to take
private property for public use. With a recent opinion from the Supreme Being
Court, the “Grand Orifice”, you basically own nothing – accept debt. Example:
You have a 40-year mortgage on a home. After 20-years of paying off nothing
accept the interest, you feel comfortable that now you can attack the
principle. What the hell is a “truth-in-lending” statement? It is your house –
almost. The “truth-in-lending” explains it all accept how to understand it all
and what “almost” means in terms of light years. Anyway, the city tax guy comes
around and determines that the property would be better off with a Wal-Mart
which will need a McDonalds which will need a bank with 40 ATM machines which
all told will need new roads and as many traffic control lights as the money
robots. So your property is condemned. We all thought that condemning of
property through pennies on the dollar statutes was for legitimate reasoning,
for things like highways. What is a Wal-Mart without a highway? See, the
intersections are favorite panhandling zones. Everybody benefits from the
insurgence! So the taxman accesses your property. It is purposely low-balled by
some Non-Newtonian formula that leaves you with nothing. When the apple fell,
it was determined that the sum of the parts did not equal the original whole.
Had something to do with ferocious ants. Regardless of your protest, the
wrecking ball commences demolition. Now the bank picks up the check from the
tax guy. You get the leftovers. But not so easy! Soon you receive a nasty note
from some firm with twenty tongue twisting names that demands you owe money for
a delinquent mortgage account. And this outfit, which is immune from ethics and
prosecution because they are and own the bar association that picks the judges,
well they set an interest rate that defies gravity. You have to claim
bankruptcy, but that bailout program has also been hijacked by the scoundrels
in robes - through open orifice legislation. I think we have sprung a leak.
Orifices are showing up everywhere. Send dodoes! I mean dadoes! I mean doodles!
I mean diodes! I mean diploes! Sorry, my automatic spell corrector didn’t
understand the official word for a vibrator. Anyway, you are left with debt.
Back in the old days, debt carried more punishment then rape or murder. We are
heading back to those times. The King has spoken. But, you have a Wal-Mart
nearby! Did you ever wonder why rich people, and I emphasize “rich”, head to
Florida to claim bankruptcy? It is safe haven. Just like Delaware is safe haven
for big business. All the big oil companies working in Alaska are incorporated
not in the 49th state but the “Liberty and Independence” state. In
Florida, the homestead exemption – which is an asset you get to keep when you
are legally declared broken – it allows 5 million dollars! That’s a pretty nice
home. In Alaska, the exemption is $55,000.00 dollars. That is about a years
rent at an extended stay hotel – breakfast included! The local government owns
everything and the Fed.’s own all of that. In reality, it is called double
taxation. And with more and more outside interest from overseas investors – the
British and Chinese – buying into the eminent domain infrastructure, it means
less and less for capitalism. Bottom line, capitalism belongs to Americans! We
have no room for competition. The boom to scam us out of property ownership all
started with what is called a “Friend of the Court” brief. Supposedly when
lawyers are not busy, they spend their time bombarding the court systems with
briefs. Remember the panty raids of the 70’s? Maybe that is what the court
system needs. Send them your underwear – your “briefs”. These unsolicited
documents bog down the system. But the recent opinion rested the case of
eminent domain sovereignty. It means what some of the experts have been telling
us for years. They were right, so deserve the expert label. These guys used to
be called rebels or radical thinkers. They tinkered with the underlying truths
of what our “Great” society was supposed to be about. They were called
conspiracy theorists. Nothing is safe anymore. It probably wasn’t ever really
safe, but common sense dictated some semblance of brotherhood and sisterhood
over money-hood. We need a modern day Robin Hood. Newton was right about
gravity! It’s the severity of magnitude that scares me. If the apple falls from
high enough, it’s applesauce. That is what will happen if a handful of
politicians dedicated not to the cause but looking for applause continue to
challenge and unravel what has over time made this country great. The
Constitution is sacred. It is a scary thought, to think that it is being tinkered
with. Leave it alone. Please do not
disrobe or dethrone this great emancipator. If that is your interest, maybe it
is time to disrobe and dethrone your own selfish interests. This goes for all
countrymen, countrywomen, sons and daughters and all. It is time for bravery to
slaughter the slavery of greed. To derail the Constitution in favor of the
eminent domain will in time prove to be a notable ptomaine. Sovereignty? My
dark orifice!
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As I waited patiently for my
table reservation at an upbeat eating establishment in downtown Anchorage, I
became amused at a “beggar” positioned just outside the main entrance. That’s
what the snobbish looking lady called him. Same sentiment from the little kid
in the “Old Navy Nike Gap” outfit. In no way shape or form worn-out
hand-me-downs! Other adults thought it wasn’t funny. Not the kid’s comment, but
the beggar whose action caused a bottleneck for patrons hurrying to this
establishment in efforts to fill their habits of overindulgence in food. It was
as if people rushed by the “beggar” just to get positioned in line and then
waited and wasted more time people watching. Isn’t the “beggar” a person?
Anchorage is a haven for people who spend their day at major intersections
soliciting for some spare coinage. Must be pretty brutal come winter! In fact,
every intersection has a full time crew. It got so bad around town, the
assembly decided to ban the activity by passing a “panhandle” law. But it never
made it through the bureaucracy because no panhandler representatives showed up
to voice opposition during public testimony. Speak now or forever hide your
wallet. In this day and age everybody must have a say. The assembly lawyers
said throw it out. So there came a revised addition, as something had to be
done. So the panhandler law became a violation against the generous giver. It
protected the people in need of a handout and at the same time provided
protection to the provider! Typical bureaucracy. Police are not going to spend
their time chasing after good Samaritans. Think of a court case where the judge
has impose a fine upon a person trying to help out another person. Idiotic! Anyway, I ventured outside to where the “beggar” was busy,
trying so desperately to gain the undivided attention of an innocent victim –
advertising out loud about his hard luck. From the looks of his demeanor, hard
luck has been his salvation. A young guy, protectively escorting his date pass
the foul smelling obstacle, responded and handed over a dollar bill. There came
a smile that was hard to define, but it meant something. Can you call a live
human an obstacle? Well almost alive! Urine cologne is easily identifiable. It
seems many that crossed this down and out guy’s path acted as if he didn’t
exist and the request for some small change was coming from a ventriloquist.
Ignorance sprouted from ignore! Most of the time the quest went unanswered.
Great teaching tool for adults upon children, I thought to myself. But every so
often his wishes caught someone’s attention. Was it out of fear? Or was it from
brotherly “love”. I observed as a middle-aged couple responded, but it followed
a bothersome behavior that was intended not as a gesture of good faith but to
diffuse the innocent confrontation. Again, the same smile from the beggar made
it clear and convincing that the handouts were appreciated. I watched as he
un-cupped his hands from the previous take, it looked like about three pennies.
I didn’t really matter. It was something. The guy was probably in no shape or
form trying to access what others were thinking about his dilemma. He had no
ego, just a desire to have something. It will be the same tomorrow, a need for
something! Now most of the clientele entering this establishment were about to
throw down easily a hundred bucks for a gourmet meal. This guy so far collected
just over a dollar. So as people enjoyed seasoned wine at some eight dollars a
glass, I wondered what would be this individual’s choice of drink? No doubt he
was collecting change for a slug. I wondered what would be his choice of an
entrée. He’s human, he must have his daily bread. A leftover Big Mac would be a
luxury! Soon I found my hand fumbling for some change. None was to be found.
But it wasn’t an empty pocket. Some paper was testament to greater
denominations. I went for it and pulled out a bill, it was a ten spot, it was his.
No regret, no attempt to retreat. The response was the same smile, no
different. I realized then, that what one gives brings the same thanks. He knew
its face value. It allowed him to move on in life, at least for the time being.
The beggar went away with the loot, a relief to many who thought his appearance
was a nuisance. The lesson? Money does not buy from this man a hierarchy of
appreciation. Giving is giving. That is the true covenant of church. And the
religious aspect practiced is simple, non-denominational - it doesn’t matter!
Brother, yes I can spare more then a dime! No strings attached. Keep the smile.
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Right
off the bat one could tell he was a soldier, even from afar! There wasn’t a
solitary twitch from his conditioned body, as if at the moment under the
demanding and demeaning scrutiny of his drill sergeant – eye to eye combat.
Don’t breathe, don’t think, don’t do anything but nothing. Unfortunately, this
was a different kind of drill before the young soldier. His steadfast statue
like statute was not born out of a regimented lifestyle, but out of necessity
and really beyond his control. Twenty-two years healthy. Left ahead of him many
more years to practice patience, as a paraplegic. His legs had no life. His
lower body was now just baggage, serving no useful purpose. But he was
determined to show his courage, and brave the new world before him. Now back on
friendly soil, as a homeward bound soldier. Another casualty from the struggle
in Iraq. We just buried four more Alaskans, lost in a “Black Hawk” down
incident. It is sad to see the obituary section of the paper. Especially when
the face of death staring is that of young kids, my own children’s age. Kids we
heard about over the years. Neighbor kids. Co-workers’ kids. Our very own kids.
So young. Too young to their graves! Gone, but not forgotten. But for this
survivor, a different kind of homecoming welcome. His life went on! Alaska has
brutal weather, for most of the year. How does one cope with such a loss? I
pondered this question, as there surely exists better-suited places in the
lower 48 states to accommodate mobility that has been jeopardized by an
accident or injury – most likely from shrapnel. IED’s! Improvised explosive
devices. Improvised? Doesn’t make sense. Yes we can grieve our dead youth, but
what about the staggering list of injured soldiers? All homeward bound, not due
the completion of a tour of duty, but made possible from unforeseen
circumstances. Murtha talked about it, he shed a tear. Bush talked about it, he
said a prayer. Murtha looked sad. Bush held a smirk. Tears heal. Prayers? Hey,
with God on “OUR” side! But to observe such courage on this kid’s face upon a
new battlefield, it made me cry. I said another prayer for the young soldier.
This occurred out at Westchester Lagoon, during the winter, when most residents
were enjoying the out of door activities without restrictions. Like skiing.
Like jogging. I observed his attempts to enjoy life, crippled by such a
monumental loss. He was using a sled, with skis attached, and propulsion came
about from a pair of short length ski poles – stubbies. It was all work. During
his first attempts, he tried harnessing dog power. His best of friend couldn’t
stand the slow awkward pace, and it meant more trouble then the soldier could
handle, especially trying to deal with ropes and commands. Bottom line, the dog
didn’t understand the loss of freedom! So it meant a solo performance. It was
baby step after baby step. So cruel for this young man! But you could tell that
he was an avid skier, or was at one time in his life. I am sure he left home in
a completely different state of health, at his prime. I thought, maybe he used
to ski these trails, from here to Kincaid, some 12-miles away, then back - all
in a few hours time – a marathon outing! But now, he was lucky to make it a
smidgeon of a mile, over the course of about an hour. Well below par! Like his
canine friend, the loss of freedom was starting to sink in. Off in the
distance, I watched as an AWAC’s E-3 went homeward bound over to the nearby air
force base. Such an amazing sight! A 300-million dollar hi-tech eavesdropping
plane. It didn’t seem to help out in protecting this young kid when out and
about the streets of Baghdad. Then the silence of the day went broken by
several F-15’s returning, also homeward bound. Another marvel of the hi-tech
fighting machine, at some 40-million dollars a whack. Once again, how did such
aerodynamic marvels help out protecting our troops on the back alley streets of
Fallugah? The war birds make a whole lot of noise, drowning out all of the
other irritating noises that surround us in city life. It was Friday, so maybe
the military exercises were called off early, so the practicing troops could go
out and enjoy happy hour. Maybe a dance or two! Reiterating, such an amazing
sight of might, homeward bound. Reiterating that such might didn’t seem to help
the injured soldier, now homeward bound. All that money, for what? Maybe we are
stuck in the cold war mentality. Sure we can eavesdrop on a snail, but what
about the new war that our young kids are engaged in? All controlled from afar
by cold war veterans. Maybe we need to re-organize the Pentagon, get rid of the
cold war relics. It is costing us, in lives! We have the money. We have the
knowledge. We have the will power. Honesty is missing. We are fighting a war
that is not understood by the administration, but indeed understood by the top
brass. The top brass cannot dominate, as the trickle down theory rules. There
is no upward mobility or open door policy in efforts for our militants to
challenge the Commander in Chief. This country is missing its Commander! This
country is missing its Chief. The proof and truth of the matter struggles right
before us, injured soldiers. The numbers are mind-boggling. Then as the silence
tried to once again dominate the day, off in another direction, competition to
be heard. Frustration had taken hold of the soldier’s patience. It was just too
damn overwhelming. It must have felt good to yell out his pain and agony of
defeat. That freedom was still his to cherish. He was just not gaining ground.
Baby steps were for babies, not for grown men. Grown men fight wars. And right
now, he was engaged in the greatest battle of his entire life. He had become
overheated from all the effort to go nowhere. He was trying to shed layers of
clothing. It was a chore, even to remove a headband. He has his work cut out
for him, along with an entire life to subdue the pain and try to make a life,
in the handicapped ranks. Some say the Lord is unfair, as handicapped
individuals arrive on this planet each and everyday. Life is sometimes unfair
in that respect, but we fail at understanding the Creator’s will. For this
young man, who became a soldier, this handicap could have been avoided. If we
don’t understand war, we don’t deserve to engage in it. Is this pace to
so-called peace worth it when we are not prepared? Ask this homeward bound
“Soldier of Misfortune”!
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To Rename the
To the
OLD GROUCHY BASTARD RUNWAY
Background:
In a
Senate vote, a provision to open up ANWR to oil drilling was defeated. In a
follow up poll by ANWR POWER, 15 senators changed their vote against the bill
after receiving to many complaints over Ted Stevens’ behavior in Senate
chambers the day before the vote. According to Senate Watch, the chambers had
emptied out after Ted stole the floor. Rumor has it that another senior ranking
Alaskan representative tried to get the microphones turned off during Ted’s
temper tantrum. Another Senator said it was the best showing of indecent
composure that he has ever witnessed in his 16 years in D.C., recommending that
Saturday Night Live should pick up on the act. ANWR POWER believes it is this
behavior that has once again hurt the cause.
Action:
Therefore,
ANWR POWER, requests your help in punishing this behavior which has cost the
State of Alaskoon, the Nation, the consumer, the opportunity to strengthen our
dependence on oil imports. We believe punishment should come in the form of
public humiliation.
Your action on this issue is only a cell phone call away!
(907)269-7450, ask for Frank
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to SHORT STACK List
THE END, for
now!
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